Brother Complex
by MeowChan16
Summary: Dysfunctional family AU. Al and Mattie have always been close brothers, but when Matthew gets hurt falling off a motorcycle, more people start giving him attention. Possessive Alfred doesn't like it - not one bit. Matfred with some FrUk. Rating bumped up!
1. Chapter 1

**Brother Complex**

**CHAPTER I**

"Who are you?"

Matthew's eyes flew open, recognizing his Build-A-Bear polar bear, Kumajirou. He must have pressed the bear's paw in his sleep, activating the recording of his brother's voice.

Back when they were ten, his parents had taken him and his brother, Alfred, to the workshop for their conjoined birthday party. He recalled how Al had thrust the recording device into the bear after leaving a secret message for Matthew.

_"Mattie, listen to it when we get home. It's a surprise!"_

He groaned at the thought of it. "Yeah," he mumbled to himself, "real funny, Al." His feet, clad in plain socks, touched the floor as he rose to get ready for the school day.

Matthew was always being mistaken for his brother, even though they weren't related. Otherwise, he was completely ignored or unrecognized, thus prompting the constant, "Who are you?"

As he pulled on his red sweatshirt with a white maple leaf graphic, he tried to understand how it had come to this. Sure, the two were toddlers from different backgrounds that formed a bond in the orphanage and somehow managed to get adopted by two gay men. Or at least that was what Dad said. He'd never doubted it, but they shared the same face, the only difference being Matthew's violet blue eyes.

Dad had explained to him once, "Well, you know how some people look like their pets?" Matthew had nodded. "The same thing goes for people with their friends and family. We rub off on each other." He'd just have to accept that as the answer as to why people often confused him for Alfred.

As for never being noticed, he pretty much had that down pat. He never tried to get anyone's attention or steal the limelight, so he figured people just let him be. Besides, Matthew didn't like the feeling of being paid attention to anyway; in fact, in the rare chance that it happened, it made him feel downright uncomfortable.

After slipping on his baggy jeans, he tiredly groused, "Come on, Kumajirou," as he picked up his beloved "pet" and reluctantly made his way downstairs.

"6:15; It's about time you got down here," Alfred pretended to scold him. "Started thinking I'd have to make breakfast."

"Yeah, you'd burn the whole house down," Matthew countered, "and we'd _still _have to pay the mortgage."

"Oh, Mattie!" his brother cried out while dramatically grasping at the fabric over his heart. "Your words wound me!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Al, you're such an idiot."

Putting the theatrics aside, Alfred just replied, "Your _mom's_ an idiot."

"She must be if she left me at the same orphanage as you," Matthew joked as he pulled an apron over his head and tied the straps around his waist.

"Touché."

The jokes were in good fun, but they wouldn't dare talk about the adoption situation in spite. It was an unspoken rule between them, for both of them knew how sensitive the topic was, especially for Mattie. Alfred had learned this the hard way when they were younger, and the rule had been born.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Matthew asked his brother.

"Mmm, hamburgers," he answered.

"Pfft, hamburgers aren't for breakfast."

"Then whip us up some of your delicious pancakes."

"On it," he conceded as he started getting out the mix and ingredients. "Anyway, where's Papa? He's usually the one that makes breakfast for us."

"Dunno," was Alfred's response. "Had to head off early to the restaurant."

"The man goes off to his job as a five-star chef and leaves his children starving at home. Irony much?"

The two filled the kitchen with their boisterous laughter. Matthew was having trouble stirring the batter with how hard he was chortling. "I-I," Alfred stuttered, trying to catch his breath, "I can't believe I actually knew that word!" This sent them spiraling into another fit of hysterics.

Once calmed down, Matthew poured the pancake batter onto the griddle. "Once these come off, we're going to have to wolf them down. We've got twenty minutes until we have to leave."

"Then you should've gotten down here earlier," Al teased him.

Matthew just rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe _someone_ should have woken me up."

"That's Dad's job."

"Oh great, he's missing too?"

"Yeah- oh God."

"What?" Mattie asked in his naïve manner.

"They're both M.I.A.," Alfred announced, a devilish grin plastered on his face. "You know what that means."

Matthew eyes widened in realization and he blushed fiercely. "You're such a perv," he concluded as he flipped the pancakes.

"But you caught my drift, so you're a perv too."

"Hey, do you want pancakes or not?" Matthew argued as he slapped the platter down in front of him, placing his own set of pancakes on the opposite side of the table.

"Don't forget the maple syrup, Mattie."

He fake-gasped at the thought of it. "Me? Forget the most important part of the course?"

"Yeah, yeah, just bring it over, you Mountie."

"Whatever, Captain America."

Once Al had put on just enough syrup without getting the flapjacks soggy, he passed the bottle to Matthew. He was about to start eating them when he looked over and saw his brother practically empty the bottle all over his pancakes, and that was a _big_ bottle.

Matthew noticed his brother staring and stopped pouring the syrup. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Sorry, who are you again?" Alfred joked, almost acknowledging that he was treading on thin ice with this last statement. He stuffed some of the fluffy goodness known as pancakes into his mouth. "Speaking of that," he continued talking as he pointed at the stuffed polar bear, "you're going to be 17 in July, Mattie. You've got to stop carrying around Kumajirou everywhere you go."

"I do not carry him _everywhere_." He wasn't even surprised anymore that he could understand Al through that food-filled mouth.

"He's always with you unless you're at school or any other public place. Or is this your way of saying you can't stand to leave my side?"

Matthew playfully punched his brother in the arm. "Careful, Al, your big head might not fit out the door." He daintily pierced several of the pancake squares he had cut with his fork and placed them on his tongue. "And I don't think you have any right to be talking about Kumajirou. Don't forget that you turn 17 only three days after me, and that you still sneak into my room whenever you have a nightmare."

"Hey," Al protested, "nightmares are scary, okay?" His expression turned somber as he crammed more of the flapjacks into his mouth. "Besides, you're the only one that would comfort me and then promise not to tell anyone. I know for sure Dad and Papa wouldn't."

"Yeah," Mattie agreed, "and they'd never let you sleep in my bed if they knew."

"Bloody wankers," Al happily declared, trying to imitate Dad's British accent. It came out Scottish.

Matthew snickered at his brother's failed attempt, almost choking on his pancakes. The two devoured the rest and brought their plates to the sink. Alfred watched in disgust as his brother licked off the remaining maple syrup before putting them in the wash.

"Maple freak."

"Hamburger freak. Come on, it's time to go."

The two grabbed their backpacks, strategically placed on the floor, and headed out into the chilly March air, Al's leather jacket and Mattie's golden waves billowing in the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II**

"How can you actually like this song?" Matthew incredulously asked his brother across the bus aisle. The driver was playing a popular radio station, and the one song he hated with a passion was blaring over the speakers.

"It's catchy!" Alfred defended.

"It's a song about a guy trying to describe a girl he likes 'without being disrespectful', who then goes on to describe her with derogatory terms. How would you feel if someone called you _that_?" He pointed at the radio, indicating the offensive lyrics now playing.

"It's a _song_, Mattie." He rolled his blue eyes. It was hilarious how Mattie got so hung-up over music.

Matthew rested his head on the window and sighed. He swore he'd never say something so vulgar to a girl. Well… it wasn't like he'd have to worry about that with his…predicament, so to speak. "Where has the good music gone?" he proclaimed, exasperated.

"Well, fine. What do _you_ consider good music?"

"_Marianas Trench_."

"Who?"

He groaned at his brother's musical ignorance, the bus stopping in front of the high school. "They're a famous punk rock band in Canada."

"Well," Alfred replied as they hopped off, "if they were awesome, they'd be popular in America."

"And if _that_ happened, they'd sell out like _Boys Like Girls _and _We The Kings_."

"Keep telling yourself that. Later, Mattie!" He split from his brother's side and headed down the hall to his locker. Matthew managed to make his way over to his own through the mass of seniors without getting trampled. Slowly, he put his combination into the lock and opened it, starting to gather the necessary supplies for the school day.

"Da-ze!" someone shouted and hugged him from behind. Mattie squeaked, dropping a sad history textbook, and ripped the person's hands from around his waist. He wheeled around to find a Korean with dark brown hair smiling shamelessly.

"God, Yong Soo!" Matthew yelled at him, his face flushed. "Don't do that!"

Giggling, he shrugged and said, "It's just a hug, Matt. No need to get embarrassed!"

"Yeah, well, keep it up and I'll call you out on sexual harassment," he taunted as he stuffed several textbooks into his backpack.

Im Yong Soo laughed, leaning against an adjacent locker. "When have I ever sexually harassed someone?"

"Yesterday? In Gym?"

"Hey," he argued, "Yao was asking for that butt-smack. He's a naughty boy."

"Dear God," Matthew griped, his face even redder, "don't _ever_ say that again."

"But it's true! Yao decided to eat lunch with Kiku yesterday, even though I asked him first! He wanted to be punished." He was pretending to cry now; what a drama queen.

Matthew was used to his friend's tendencies by now, but sometimes he went too far. Of course, he was too shy to tell Yong Soo this, so he usually kept his mouth shut and agreed with him. Honestly though, how could he possibly think Yao would fall for him through stalking and other inappropriate measures? Yet, he had to admit that despite Yao's proclaimed denial, he did seem to enjoy all the attention Yong Soo gave him.

"He probably just wanted to spend time with other friends?" was all Mattie could offer.

"Whatever. If he blows me off again, I'll have no choice but to claim his breasts for Korea."

"He's a guy; he doesn't _have_ breasts. And what is your deal with touching men's chests, anyway?" It was a blameless question, but definitely one that deserved an answer. Was there any way to possibly understand Yong Soo's obsession, especially when it only applied to the male population?

"Matthew! Yong Soo!"

The two turned to see Kateryna Braginski running towards them, her vast bust bouncing all the way. She giggled and hugged them both, neither reacting much to the awkward contact.

"Kateryna," Matthew greeted her as she pulled away, "how are you?"

"Good, I think," she replied, rubbing her turquoise eye while smiling. "But lately, Ivan hasn't been letting any guys come near me, except for you two. It's not an ideal situation, you know."

"Ah, he's just protective of his baby sister," Yong Soo shrugged with his eyes closed. "I'm sure he means well."

"Actually, I'm older," Kateryna corrected him.

"Well, still, he's just worried that someone's gonna hurt you." He put an arm around Matthew and yanked him closer, his brown eyes sparkling. "But at least he knows we queers ain't no harm to you, right, Matt?"

"What?!" Matthew exclaimed, his glasses unhinged from the sudden jerking.

Yong Soo laughed before teasing, "Relax, Matt! I'm just joking! Well, at least about _you_." He flashed a mischievous grin and posed flamboyantly in his K-Pop-style clothes.

The obnoxious bell rang abruptly, and students started heading off to their classes. "See you guys in Gym!" Yong Soo shouted as he ran off. "Remember, we've got video club today after school!"

Matthew sighed and let his shoulders relax, relieved. Kateryna noticed this, but put it aside and said, "Come on, let's get to French."

He walked to the room with her, but as hard as he tried, though, he couldn't keep what his open friend had said off of his mind.

How had he managed to hit the head on the nail? Matthew had never said or done anything to indicate he swung that way. No, Yong Soo had simply been kidding around; there's no way he actually knew. As long as the Korean didn't bring it up again…

In his pondering, Matthew walked right into a rather tall and buff jock. He yelped as the impact sent him crashing to the floor. "Hey!" the jock barked, pulling him up off the tile by the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Didn't your mama teach you to watch where you're going?!"

_Great, this guy's full of testosterone,_ Matthew thought, the fear creeping into his face. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, well sorry ain't good enough!"

"H-Hey!" Kateryna cried out, tears welling in her eyes. "It was an accident! Leave him alone!"

"Shut _up_!" he roared.

"Maple!" Matthew whimpered as he prepared for the blow.

A deafening smack echoed in the hallway as someone's fist collided with the jock's face. He howled in pain, dropping Matt, and staggered away. A small trail of blood was evidently streaming from his mouth as he clenched his jaw with one hand. Matthew turned his head to see where the assault had come from, only to find the familiar slim build of his brother.

"Honestly, John," Alfred mocked him, shaking his hand from having punched the guy. "Using cliché threats? Get over yourself; it was an accident. Now be a good boy and move along."

John snarled at Al, but then felt a hand place itself on his shoulder. He looked behind him and unfortunately had the pleasure of meeting Ivan Braginski.

"You will leave them alone, da?" he asked in his creepily childish manner. His gray-blonde bangs slightly shrouded his gaping, indigo eyes, giving off a bitter winter feeling. Even Matthew shuddered at the cold vibe Ivan was giving off. Not wanting to take on the two of them, he reluctantly turned on his tail and left.

Once the jock was out of view, Ivan went to Kateryna to try to get her to stop bawling. Alfred walked over to Matthew instead, who was still lying on the floor. He pulled him up and asked, "You okay, Mattie?"

Matthew dusted off his narrow frame and nodded. "Yeah. Just a little tossed around. No big deal." He stopped for a second and quickly added, "Thanks, Al."

"Anytime, my weakling of a brother," he teased, pulling Matthew into a headlock and ruffling the golden locks with his fist.

"Hey!"

"Relax, Mattie. It's all play." Alfred flashed his famous grin.

He gave Al a lopsided smile, letting him know everything was all right, as Kateryna managed to get down to sniffling. Just then, the bell rang again, indicating class had begun.

"Augh, we're late," Matthew groaned. Their French teacher was punctual and never accepted tardiness.

"Do not worry," Ivan reassured him. "I have a way of…persuading the teachers. Oh, and Matthew?"

"…Yes?"

His arm was around his sister when he gave Matthew a chilly stare with that same disturbing grin, commanding him, "This will not happen again, da?"

Mattie shivered at the suddenly arctic atmosphere and nodded several times.

"Good," Ivan affirmed it, returning back to his cheery nature. "Now let us take you two to French, da?"

It wasn't as if he had a choice. Matthew walked to the class behind the siblings, soon noticing Alfred was still by his side. "Why are you coming along?"

"Hey, I'm not allowed to look after my wimpy brother?" Al questioned, running his leather-clad fingers through his short blonde hair. "Besides, I'm missing Geometry right now.

"You and your ulterior motives."

"You know it, Mattie." he replied, resting his arm on his brother's shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III**

Thanks to Ivan's "persuasion", Matthew and Kateryna managed to get through French without any problems. The Russian was definitely a force to be reckoned with; one that teachers best left alone. They'd have been locked out of the room without his influential skills.

The day passed rather quickly; 2:06 came and went and Matthew found himself in a mob once the bell signaling the dismissal sounded. Practically invisible within the crowd, he tried unsuccessfully to escape. This only led to being knocked around like a pinball deployed by an aggressive gamer on his last try. He ended up getting slammed against an unforgiving locker, and decided it'd be best to stay there until everyone passed.

A smart decision that was, and once the last person had run off, he slung his backpack onto one shoulder and headed off to Video Club, not even bothering to fix his appearance. Yong Soo always wanted to get started on time, and Matthew was always late due to the rush for the buses, which he seemed to have the luck for getting caught in.

Matthew sighed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, wishing Kumajirou was there. He knew it was childish, but the bear always made him feel better after getting ignored by the masses.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, getting louder and closer until Matthew heard a "Yo, Mattie!" and felt a hand slap his back. He started coughing from the impact and glared at his overly energetic brother.

"C-Could you hit any h-harder?" he managed to choke out. "God, Al!"

Alfred's smile faded when he got a better look at Matthew. "Whoa, what happened? You look terrible." Al straightened out his brother's crooked sweatshirt and realigned his lopsided glasses.

"Yeah, well that kinda happens on Fridays, when a lot of impatient teenagers nearly trample you in their race to leave the school," Matthew explained, letting Alfred continue his fussing.

"You've got to stand up for yourself, Mattie," Al advised once he finished fixing up his brother. He then proceeded to ruffle Matthew's waves before pushing his own glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Come on, we've got Video Club."

The two walked into the designated room just in time to hear Yong Soo's conversation with Yao and Kiku. "As a necessary rite of passage in this Video Club," the Korean was explaining, "I have to show you two how we develop film."

"Al, what's he talking about? You don't develop-"

"Shh," Alfred silenced him, "they haven't noticed us yet."

"Just come into the darkroom and I'll give you two a demo." Yong Soo had the same mischievous smile on his face, and Matthew realized he was up to something, but wasn't sure what.

"Okay, aru," Yao conceded and walked into the room, his dark ponytail swaying slightly. "Come on, Kiku, aru."

The short Japanese male followed with Yong Soo in tail. It wasn't until the darkroom door closed that Mathew understood the Korean's scheme. The brothers exchanged glances in horror of the situation.

"I didn't see that," Matthew hastily declared.

"Same," Alfred agreed.

"We should leave."

"Good idea."

The two were hurriedly making their way out of the club room when they ran into Kateryna. "Hey," she greeted them, "What's-"

"Club's cancelled," the brothers interrupted her and dragged her along with them, trying to ignore the loud "AIYAAAAAH!" erupting from the darkroom.

**. . .**

"Papa's home!" Francis announced as he strutted through the front door. It was a Friday night, and he always closed the restaurant before eight to spend time with his family, no matter how much his customers disliked it.

Arthur looked up from his paper and through the kitchen archway to the foyer where his husband was standing. "You're _late_," he spat, green eyes glaring.

"Well, _excusez-moi_," Francis teased as he flipped his wavy blonde hair, "but I _do_ owe it to my customers to give them the best service in town."

"And you owe it to _us_-" he indicated the boys on the couch in the living room- "to come home on time."

Francis sauntered into the kitchen and wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist. "How about I make it up to you tonight, _mon amour_? Part-time porn star extraordinaire at your service, free of cost."

"F-Francis, the children are right over there!" Arthur sputtered out.

"They're on the other side of this wall, Arthur, and the only opening from here to there is that lovely archway farther down."

"They can still hear you!"

Alfred was cracking up at either the television, their parents, or both, but Matthew just hid his face in embarrassment. And they wondered why he never brought friends over!

**. . .**

Matthew awkwardly made his way up the hidden staircase off of the foyer, trying to focus on something other than the loud sounds his parents' room was emitting. The steps led him to the narrow upstairs hallway, with Alfred's bedroom to the right, his room to the left, and the shared bathroom directly between the two. He was about to turn left when he heard "Psst!"

His head turned in the direction of the voice and he saw Alfred's prominent cowlick, his head soon peeking out of his door. "Get in here, Mattie!"

Matthew shot him a confused look, but complied and turned right into his brother's room. "Why are you whispering?"

"Because we're gonna start a new brotherly tradition: Friday Horror Movie Night!" Alfred held up a DVD and his blue eyes sparkled ecstatically.

He folded his arms and replied, "You _know_ Dad doesn't want you watching scary movies."

"Yeah, well I think he's got other things on his mind right now. So shut up and watch it with me or you can go back to your room and spend the night listening to them go at it under your floorboards."

A particularly explicit groan just at that moment practically made up Matthew's mind for him. God, it was as if they didn't close their door! "Fine, but don't come crying over to my room after because you're scared."

"What are you talking about, Mattie?" Alfred emphatically denied. "Heroes don't get scared!"

**. . .**

Matthew was having trouble getting to sleep, even though it was after midnight. He had learned a lot of things this evening. First, when he had gone downstairs to make popcorn, that Dad and Papa actually _didn't_ close their door, much to his dismay. Second, the sound of popping kernels could not overpower the breathy grunts and moans. Third, even Alfred screaming bloody murder whenever something mildly terrifying happened in the film wasn't enough to perturb their parents. Fourth, that his arm probably wasn't supposed to turn blue, as his brother had been gripping it for dear life during the movie. And fifth, that heroes did indeed get scared.

All right, so he already knew that last one, but it never ceased to amaze him how Alfred got so freaked out by horror films. Not that the movie hadn't been scary, for he had to admit that he screamed and clung to his brother too, but Al, like a young child, couldn't sleep alone after watching one.

As if on cue, Matthew heard his door creak open in the silence of the night, and smirked. _I knew it, _he thought.

"M-Mattie?"

He had to slap his palm over his mouth in an effort to stifle his laughter. _Oh, how the tables have turned._

"Mattie, c-can I sleep in here tonight?"

He couldn't explain why, but a cruel smile came over him and he replied, "No, Al. You're too old for this. Go back to bed."

"Mattie, please! It's too scary in there! I don't want to be alone!" Alfred's childlike pleading was just too priceless, but Matthew figured he should cave, knowing how upset Al was.

"All right, all right. Come on up."

Alfred scrambled onto the bed and under the blankets, huddling close to his brother. Matthew rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him, starting to feel guilty for taunting him like that.

"You can sleep here tonight," he told him, trying to soothe him, "but really, Al, what are you gonna do when we go off to college?"

Alfred suggested, "Well, I'll go to the same college as you."

"Yeah? Well, what if I choose one that's real hard to get into?"

"I'll work my tail off or just crash the campus."

"There's no guarantee we'll be roommates, especially if you crash."

"I'll persuade the dean."

"What if I rent an apartment instead?"

"That'll work."

"I wouldn't let you live there."

"Then I'd break in and sneak into your bed."

"That's illegal. And what if I had a gay lover there?" Mattie asked this in complete sincerity, but he knew Alfred wouldn't catch that.

"I'd just push him out of bed, like, fwoosh," Alfred explained, his words slurring slightly as he was starting to drift.

"Well, what if he didn't like that?"

"Then I'd kick him out and take his place as your gay lover." Al wasn't even sure what he was saying at this point. Matthew just snickered at his ridiculous answer.

"Go to sleep, Al. You need it. Bad."


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N: First author's note of the story! I would like to clear up something. Someone reviewed this story telling me that, historically speaking, America is supposed to be older than Canada. I know this, but this story is an AU - or alternate universe, so I decided to take some liberties. Anyway, thanks for all the support so far!)**

**CHAPTER IV **

Harsh light flooded the bedroom and Matthew reluctantly opened his eyes. He clumsily reached to his left for his glasses, almost knocking them off the side table, and slid them on. Slowly his surroundings came into focus, and he realized Alfred had already left. What time was it? A glance to the alarm clock confirmed that it was 10:21.

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. A fluttering sound passed through his ears and there was the sensation of something flapping against his forehead. Matthew touched it before taking it off of his skin; it was a post-it note. Confused, he read it aloud. "I've bear-napped Kumajirou. Go to the staircase."

Matthew grit his teeth, glaring into the depths of the ink scrawled on the paper. _Unbelievable, _he thought. _I let the hoser sleep in my bed and this is how he repays me? By taking my bear?_

He crinkled the note in his hand and got dressed quickly. Soon after, he padded towards the staircase, fuming. Sure enough, there was another note on the wooden railing: _"Go to the kitchen." _He rolled his eyes exasperatedly and made his way down the stairs, walking out of the small alcove and turning right into the kitchen.

Francis, his hair tied back in a short ponytail today, was at the stove, whipping up a "fabulous gourmet breakfast" as he called it. Arthur sat at the square table with an omelet stuffed with savory ingredients in front of him, his back to his husband as he sipped his morning tea. Even though he had the newspaper spread out in front of him, he kept peering over his shoulder at Francis from time to time. Matthew's face flushed as he noticed the hungry stare his dad directed at Papa's hips, slightly swaying to the music on the radio.

"Um," Mattie started out, "has anyone seen Al?"

"Non," Francis answered. "Well, not for a while. He came down a little earlier but didn't want any food. Oh, he told me to give you this." He flicked out a note from his back pants pocket and let Matthew snatch it from his fingers. "_Go to the laundry room."_

He groaned and ran his fingers through his tousled waves. _Al, what the hell are you doing? _

As he motioned to leave, his papa asked, "_Mathieu_, you don't want any breakfast?"

"_Non, _Papa," he replied as he plodded out the archway toward the basement stairs to the right. "Maybe later."

"Oh, are you on a scavenger hunt? Is that what the note meant?" Of course, Francis knew this because Alfred had consulted him ahead of time to mislead Matthew.

"Yeah, something like that," he grumbled before trudging down the steps to the basement, where they kept the washing machine and dryer.

"Have fun," Arthur stated blandly, returning his attention to his husband's hips. This time, Francis saw his gaze and smirked.

"You like what you see?" he teased, swinging his hips more flirtatiously now.

Caught red-handed, Arthur blushed madly and hastily swung his light coat over his shoulder. "I'm, uh, going grocery shopping," he announced before heading for the door.

"_Mon amour_, you don't have a list."

"Then I'll just buy some bloody rubbish." He'd take any excuse to get away from the humiliating situation.

Francis smiled as the front door slammed and began humming again, the meal sizzling on the stove.

**. . .**

An hour had passed, and Matthew had been all over the house - even outside of it - and still no Kumajirou. He was tired and hungry, just about ready to give up when he picked up the latest note. _"Last one, Mattie! Go inside my closet."_

A sudden wave of energy empowered him now that he knew the search was almost over. At least he hoped so; it wasn't unlike Al to get his hopes up and let them down just to mess with him.

He ran up the stairs and into his brother's room, throwing the closet doors open in the roughest of fashions. A sign of relief passed through his lungs as he finally found Kumajirou, sitting on the carpeted floor. Matthew picked up the stuffed bear and hugged it to his chest, overcome with love for his dear friend. For a second, he contemplated how pathetic that was, but pushed it out of his mind.

As he positioned the bear out in front of him, he noticed a folded piece of paper taped to Kumajirou's white paw. Once he pulled it off, he realized it was a crudely made card titled _"Dear Mattie" _in a familiar messy penmanship. _Al's handwriting_, he thought as he opened the card, shifting Kumajirou to the nook of his left elbow.

_"Hey bro! Thanks for last night. To make it up to you, how about we go to the park today? Kumajirou thinks you should. -Al."_

Matthew's hands began to tremble and his fingers tensed around the paper. He wasn't sure if he wanted to lash out at the card or go through a fit of mental-patient-worthy hysterics. "I-I" he stuttered, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, "I went through all _that_ for _this _when he could have just said it to my face?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Alfred affirmed as he stepped out from the rack of trench coats to the left. Matthew screamed at his brother's sudden appearance, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"God, Al! What's wrong with you?"

He blinked, puzzled, and replied, "What? I thought it'd be a creative way to thank you."

Matthew was torn between embracing his brother for trying to be thoughtful or strangling the idiot for being so dense. He settled for sighing and saying, "Look, I appreciate the effort, but next time, just come and tell me, okay? And don't take my bear. Now let's get out of your closet."

He walked past his brother out of the bedroom and was heading downstairs when Alfred ran after him. "Wait! Are we going to the park or not?"

"I don't _know_," he answered, tossing his locks onto his left shoulder as he gave an annoyed glance before once again descending the flight of stairs. Alfred hopped onto the banister and slid down sidesaddle as Matthew turned into the kitchen. Francis, thinking his sons were coming down to eat, decided to reheat the breakfast. He looked over in time to catch Alfred jumping off the railing and onto the hardwood floor.

"Alfred," he chastised, "no sliding down the banister. You'll damage it and its aesthetic appeal."

"Whatever, Papa." He saw Matthew now sitting at the table, trying to avoid Alfred by appearing enthralled by the newspaper. "Come on, Mattie," he pleaded as he pulled out a chair and sat opposite him, "you love the park! We'll have a picnic and play catch! Whataya say, huh?"

"Al-" Mattie tried to refuse.

"Come on! I wanna make it up to you! Well, I guess I have two things to make up to you, but I'll make this super awesome so that it covers both of them!"

Francis watched their conversation intently, pretty sure that the "scavenger hunt" was one of the issues. He hadn't a clue in the world what the other was, but it was good to see that Alfred was trying to make amends for once.

"…All right," Matthew gave in. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He _did_ love the park; he and Al hadn't played catch in a long time. The weather was great today - he knew that as he had gone searching for his bear outside at one point. He smiled, thinking that he was actually looking forward to it now.

"Awesome!" Alfred shouted, thrusting his fist into the air. "We'll get McDonalds and then go eat at the park. You can even bring Kumajirou if you want."

"Al, that'd be embarrassing. You've said it yourself, no one our age still carries around their favorite stuffed animal."

"Well," Alfred suggested, picking up the convenient bunny plush placed in the middle of the table, "I'll take this with me then. If anyone laughs, I'll beat them up."

Matthew's eyes widened and he blushed profusely as he pointed at the rabbit plush in his brother's grasp. "A-Al?"

"What?" he asked, thoroughly baffled by Mattie's demeanor.

"That's the bunny Papa got Dad for Valentine's Day this year!"

"So?"

"_So_, that's Dad's _lube bunny_!"

"_God_, no!" Al shrieked before chucking the poor stuffed animal at the wall. As expected, a half-used bottle of lube flew out of the bunny's pouch (which Matthew found strange since rabbits weren't marsupials) and landed on the tiled kitchen floor. Francis laughed heartily at the two's reaction to his gift to Arthur.

"How could you have forgotten, Al?"

"S-Shut up! That was a month ago! It slipped my mind, okay?"

"How does Papa telling Dad all the dirty things he wants to do to him with the help of the _lube bunny _slip your mind? …No offense, Papa."

"None taken," Francis stated, proud of his romantic actions as he returned his attention to the omelets he was reheating for them. He then realized he never actually asked them if they wanted breakfast. "Do you two want to eat here first and then go to the park? I could give you another sex lesson-"

"No!" Al and Mattie interrupted him, earning them a confounded expression from their papa.

"Erm," Alfred continued, trying to recover the situation, "we mean there's no need to do that, Papa. There's a McDonalds right around the corner, so it'd make more sense for us to pick up some food there and take it with us to the park. Come on, Mattie, we'll take Dad's motorcycle."

"_Non_," Francis denied the notion. "You don't take the test for your motorcycle license until tomorrow. I am okay with you taking it out, but your dad would not be pleased with you breaking the law, especially while on _his_ motorcycle."

"Fine, we'll roller skate then. Let's go, Mattie." Matthew followed his brother across the kitchen to the garage door to get all their supplies together. He still held onto Kumajirou, deciding he would take him with him. Matthew was practically invisible, so it was unlikely anyone would notice.

"_Adieu_, Papa," he said before slipping out the garage door with Alfred.

Once they'd left, Francis frowned as he took the food off of the stove and resealed them in the plastic bags before stuffing them into the fridge. Why had his sons been so insistent on going to that fast food joint instead? Could it be that they no longer coveted his delicious omelets? Oh, say it wasn't so!

Still perplexed, Francis collected up the lubricant bottle and the bunny that went with it and took them back to his bedroom. A devilish smile spread as he determined that he would need them once the sun set. He loved "sunshine parties" with his husband, no matter how ironic the name was.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER V**

"Ohhh, say can you _see_!" Alfred sang in an unbearably tone deaf voice. Just a second ago, he had been sitting quietly at the table next to his dear brother Matthew, but now that his dad was busy talking over the phone, he figured he should cause some trouble.

"Hold on; Alfred, you stop that right now," Arthur demanded as he glared at his irritating son, cupping his hand over the phone's speakers. His voice was biting and coarse even though he was trying his best to suppress his anger.

"By the dawn's early light…." he continued, aiming to piss him off even more.

"Alfred!"

"What so PROUD-" the note was deafening "-ly we hailed…"

"Al," Matthew whined, fearing that his dad was going to blow a gasket with how red his face getting.

"Alfred, you cut that out or I'll place you under house arrest and you will not take your motorcycle driving test!"

"All right, all right," Alfred complied, pouting slightly as he leaned back in his chair, rocking it slowly.

Matthew sighed, tired of the bickering between his father and his sibling. To think that just yesterday the brothers had spent the day at the park and Alfred had actually been likeable.

Even though they were both sixteen now, they had run all over the playground like small children, exploring the various amusements as if for the first time. He smiled as he replayed the events over in his head.

It had felt more like a dream, or a faint memory of their childhood. Swaying back and forth on the swing set, adjacent to each other, they had laughed like the four year-olds they evoked. He hadn't been on cloud nine in such a long time, and it was great to hear his brother's genuine laughter again.

Yet, today Alfred had reverted to his obnoxious teenage self, bent on making life a living hell not only for Dad, but for Matthew too.

Actually, now that he thought about it, his brother seemed to only behave when it was just the two of them. In fact, he could be a complete jerk in the presence of others, though he was kind to Matthew's friends. Many people just assumed he was a callous punk since he could be blunt, and he'd gotten into a few fights throughout his high school career. They weren't ever anything serious, except for that one brawl earlier in the year. Even Matthew wasn't sure what had caused him to jump that Cuban all of the sudden. He'd thought they were best friends, but the way they battered each other showed otherwise.

So he was written off as insensitive and brash, and rumors were always flying through the grapevine. To see all these people attacking his brother was painful for Matthew, but what was even worse was that Alfred didn't even try to fight it. It was as if he just gave in to the low expectations everyone had set, but threw away the façade once he was alone with Matthew. All that did was add fuel to the fire. What was he hoping to accomplish in that?

"Home, home on the range…" Alfred sang under his breath, making sure it was just loud enough for his dad to hear him. He smirked as Arthur cringed, clearly failing at controlling his temper.

"ALFRED!"

"Okay, okay! Sorry!" He raised his hands defensively, as if to say he didn't do anything wrong.

Arthur rolled his eyes and returned to his call. His hand clasped the knob of one of the counter's drawers and pulled it open, snatching the notepad and pen. He quickly supported the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he wrote down what the caller was saying, muttering "Uh huh," every now and then. "All right, I'll be there soon. Bye."

"Going somewhere?" Alfred asked nonchalantly, playing with his cowlick to further prove that he didn't really care.

"The shop's facing a tyrannical girl preparing for her sweet sixteen and she's demanding some bloody expensive-looking dress that will only cost her thirty dollars," he explained as he grabbed his coat. "Simply put, it's an emergency."

"Hm, 'My Dad The Seamstress'. Wouldn't that make a nice memoir?"

"I'm a _tailor_, Alfred. There's a difference." His aggravated expression softened and he ruffled his son's blonde hair. "Now, do well on your test."

"I will, Dad," Al answered, flashing his famous smile. Arthur couldn't help but grin back like the proud father he was before walking out the door. Matthew found it much to his chagrin that his dad had completely forgotten to say goodbye to him. He was invisible even to his own father.

Once Arthur had left, Alfred turned to his brother and said, "So, once I come back from my test, how about I take you out for run on Dad's motorcycle? You'll love it, and we could hang out at the park again!"

"Al…"

"Come on, Mattie, it's not like you have anything better to do."

"Actually, Al, I do," Matthew declined, resenting his brother's last comment.

"…What?" Alfred was stunned by the rejection.

He folded his arms across his slim chest and sighed before answering, "I'm going to the movies with Yong Soo and Kateryna at 3:00. We're gonna see _Dear John_."

"Are you serious?" Matthew waited for the barrage of insults that was sure to follow. "You're just gonna watch some chick flick with them?"

He was somewhat surprised by Alfred's reaction, but replied, "Uh, yeah. What, don't tell me you're _jealous_?" He laughed afterward. As if his brother could ever be jealous of _him_.

Alfred was just about to refute this statement when he realized it was the truth. He _was_ jealous; Not that they were going to watch some stupid romance movie, hell no. And it wasn't that his beloved brother was going to the cinema without his awesome brother either. No, the fact that Matthew would pass on hanging out with him so he could be with his friends set off his envy. He couldn't let Mattie know that, though, so a compromise was in order.

"Well, all right then," he retorted, putting on his slickest smirk. "Let's meet on middle ground. We'll ride to the theater on motorbike, I'll drop you off, and you can watch the film without me bothering you, no strings attached. How about that?" He'd just have to show Mattie how cool he was on the way there. Then he'd regret choosing his friends over him.

Matthew simply blinked, confused. He'd been sure that Alfred would have denied being jealous, but he'd said absolutely nothing in relation to that comment. Did that mean he was? Putting that aside, he had expected Al to chuckle and walk off to do something else, talking on and on about how he didn't care what Matthew did. Yet, his brother was so adamant on getting him to spend some time with him, even if it was just a ride to the movies. He had to confess, though, he really did want to try out that motorcycle since he'd been too afraid to take lessons himself.

Shrugging, Matthew answered, "All right. But you understand that's dependent on whether you actually pass your test."

Alfred snickered, putting a hand to his mouth in an effort to stifle it. "As if I won't!" he managed to make out through his laughter. Man, Mattie had no clue when it came to his brother's vehicular prowess.

A motorcycle thundered around the street corner, where the house stood, and the instructor pulled into their driveway. "That's Paul," Alfred announced, throwing on his leather jacket, which had been draped on his chair. "Come on, Mattie, gimme a good luck hug." He spread his arms wide, welcoming his brother in. Matthew rolled his eyes, but smiled and complied, embracing him tightly.

As they held each other, Alfred was astounded by the warmth flowing in and out him. This exchange of body heat, it felt kind of…pleasant. Oh, how he wanted to savor the fervency shared between them, kindling deep under his skin. Yes, the way his cells were tingling with the heat as he swayed back and forth…

"Al, w-what are you doing?" Matthew stuttered out, greatly puzzled as to why his brother was twisting him in a side-to-side motion.

Alfred's eyes shot open and he chuckled weakly. "J-Just sucking in all the good luck, that's all." He'd definitely gotten carried away there. Just what was up with him today? Tossing the thought out of his head, he grabbed his helmet from the counter and tucked it under his arm. "All right, see you later, Mattie. I'll be back before you have to head to the cinema, so I expect you to be here when I do."

"Bye." Matthew timidly waved him off, and as soon as he heard the vehicle rumbling away, he was at a loss again. Al was just too weird today; he must've eaten some of Dad's food.

**. . .**

"Got my motorcycle license, baby!" Alfred stormed into the living room, not giving his brother nearly enough time to turn off the television and hide the _Gilmore Girls _DVDs. All he'd had time to do was fall off the couch in shock and have his popcorn spill all over him and the floor.

"H-Hey Al," he greeted him, smiling sheepishly.

Alfred doubled over in laughter at the sight before him. Actually, it was partially that and because Lorelei had just said something incredibly witty, but he'd never own up to that. He brought a finger to his eye to wipe away a tear. "You think you're such a closet-fan, but it's so _obvious_, Mattie."

"Oh, and you're _not_," Matthew joked, picking himself off the carpet. He managed to dust the popcorn off, but now they were all over the floor. Frowning at the mess, he paused the episode and tried to recall the last place he'd seen the vacuum. "Augh, I can't remember where the vacuum is. I'll have to get the dustpan."

"No time, Mattie," Alfred informed him. "I'll clean it up when I get back after dropping you off." Why was his brother eating popcorn when he was just about to head off to the movies, anyway? Oh right, Matthew was such a penny-pincher; he didn't like spending cash on expensive movie food.

He scoffed. "No you _won't_."

"True, but I'll take the blame when Dad gets home."

Matthew gave in and turned off the television, deciding there wasn't point in arguing over it. "All right, then let's go," he said, heading for the kitchen to get to the garage.

"Hey, hey wait." Alfred stopped him, grabbing the other's arm. "Hold on, I've got to get you a jacket, gloves, and a spare helmet." He pulled out an extra pair of gloves and handed them off to Matthew.

Taking the gloves and pulling them on, he told his brother, "Al, I don't need a jacket. I have my sweatshirt on."

"No!" He lifted up his index finger to make his point. "You never ride a motorbike without a leather jacket. It lowers the chance of injuries."

Well, _now_ he was freaking out. "O-On second thought, let's just r-rollerblade."

"Mattie, nothing's going to happen, I promise. Now, stay here while I get your stuff." He walked to the foyer closet and pulled out his dad's leather jacket and his helmet. "Put on the jacket and bring your helmet with you."

Reluctantly, Matthew pulled on the coat, not fond of the cold texture of the hide. Once he'd zipped it up, he looked at himself in the wall mirror and felt unbearably awkward since the jacket practically commanded attention. It was too loud for his taste, and he tugged at the ends, embarrassed.

Well, look at that, Mattie could actually look badass. If only he took off his glasses and wiped that bashful look off his face - then it'd really be something. He twirled the keys in his gloved hand, smiling at this thought. "And now we leave," he stated dramatically, walking confidently. Matthew just followed his brother like the meek lamb he portrayed.

"Now," Alfred instructed him after placing their helmets on the side shelf, "how you get on the motorcycle: think of her like a horse. You throw one leg over-" he demonstrated this "-and pull yourself up on her back. Do that, then slide yourself closer to me, and wrap your arms around my waist for support. Don't leave much space in between; you have to mold yourself to my body. When we round the corners, sometimes, you'll have to lean out a little. Just follow what I do, okay?"

He nodded, taking in the information.

"Good, now hand me my helmet and put on your own. It might be hard to hear each other with these on, so keep that in mind." Matthew lifted them off the shelf, handing one to his brother and the two put them on. Alfred looked over his shoulder at Matthew and noticed that they looked almost identical now, in the same clothes and with their faces masked.

Matthew hesitantly climbed on, finding it uncomfortable to straddle the chilled seat. Slowly, he slid forward and embraced his brother, discomfited by the chafing. Why had he decided to wear skinny jeans today? Oh yeah, everything else was in the wash.

Now that his brother's hands were gripping his waist, Alfred smiled and revved up the vehicle. Matthew flinched at the noise, so Alfred waited a few seconds before soaring out of the garage and around the corner. Every time there was a curve or a sharp turn, he started to bend towards the middle of the road. Matthew trusted what'd he'd said and bent with him. He could feel his heart thumping harder than ever before as the vehicle pushed faster; the adrenaline rush was invigorating. He didn't want that feeling to ever end.

It was then that he realized Alfred was pulling up to the sidewalk of the cinema. Through the blue veil of the helmet, he could see Yong Soo and Kateryna waiting outside; now they were staring at the two. The motorcycle braked suddenly, and the force sent Matthew crashing into his brother, only causing him to hug him tighter.

Alfred pulled off his helmet and laughed, yanking Matthew's off soon after. "Relax, Mattie. It's not going to hurt you."

"I-I know that!" he protested, blushing as he indignantly removed his death-grip on his brother's waist.

"Want me to pick you up later? You gotta hang onto that helmet though. I can't hold it and drive." There wasn't any way he'd refuse the offer. Alfred had been able to tell by his brother's slackened grasp during the ride that he'd loved the experience.

Matthew paused, trying to make it seem like he was thinking about it when he'd already made up his mind. He just didn't want Alfred to see how eager he was to get back on. "…Okay."

This won him an earnest grin from Al, who could see right through him. _Mission accomplished_, Alfred thought. "See you around five," he declared before shoving his helmet back over his head. A few revs and he was off, flying down the open road once again. Matthew watched him drive away, and as much as Matthew hated to admit it, he couldn't deny that his brother was the coolest person he knew.

**. . .**

**(A/N: Sorry about the teaser there. I hope too many of you didn't think Mattie was gonna get hurt this chapter. Anyway, I'm going to announce here that due to my school schedule, it's easier for me to update my stories once a week. So **_**Brother Complex **_**will be updated on Sundays and **_**My Skin **_**will be updated on Wednesdays. These dates are not entirely set in stone, though.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER VI**

Matthew was working on his French homework when the fire alarm went off. "Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!" In his panic, he snatched Kumajirou up in his arms and rushed out of his room. As he ran down the stairs, he heard coughing coming from the kitchen. Alfred was the only other person home. Fear took over and he sprinted to the right. "Al? AL?"

"C-Calm down, Mattie!" Alfred choked out between coughs. "Just a little kitchen fire, but it's all taken care of now." He was standing by the sink with the water running over the metal cooking tray, oven mitts on both hands.

"God, Al! What have I told you about cooking? You'll burn the house down, and we haven't paid off the mortgage yet!"

Alfred blinked, obviously perplexed. "When did you say that?"

"Like two weeks ago?"

"Oh."

The Canadian slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed, placing Kumajirou on the table. He pulled out one of the chairs and stood on it to reach and turn off the blaring alarm. "All right, now tell me what happened," he demanded, rubbing his forming headache.

"Well, the Vargas bros' birthday party is today, so I thought I'd make them some pasta for a gift, but I kinda burned it."

Matthew just stared at his brother, trying to comprehend what he'd just said. He burnt pasta. _Pasta_. "How the hell do you burn pasta?"

"What? All I did was pour those hard spaghetti sticks onto the tray and stick it in the toaster oven-"

"You did _what_? You're supposed to _boil_ pasta!"

"That's what I did! There's a 'boil' button on the toaster oven. Look for yourself if you don't believe me."

Contemplating how absurd the thought was, Matthew walked over to the appliance and examined its controls. "…Al, it says 'broil', not 'boil'."

"…Oh."

As exasperated as he was, he couldn't help but burst out laughing at Alfred's honest mistake. It was naïve, childish, even…cute…in a stupid-brother sort of way, of course. "It's okay, Al. Look, we can share the credit for the gifts I got them. I thought something like this might happen."

Alfred smiled, relieved that Mattie wasn't mad at him. Well, his brother surely knew his good intentions. But that was all they usually ended up as: good _intentions_. The actual execution often resulted in disaster. "Works for me. What time do we have to leave, anyway?"

Matthew glanced over at the clocks on the oven and microwave. "Oh! We should be leaving soon." He raced up the stairs to gather the two presents. As he came back down, he saw his brother leaning against the wall, ready to go.

"See, Mattie? We would've been late if it hadn't been for my shenanigans."

"Shut up and carry this gift," he teased, passing off one of the presents to Alfred before they headed out the door.

The weather was warming up recently, so the Bonnefoy brothers didn't have to wear their sweatshirts or anything, but they still chose to. It wasn't like the sun was beating down on their backs. The air was comfortable, and it was a good day for walking. Besides, the Vargas family lived in the same neighborhood, so it wasn't a burden to go on foot.

They soon arrived at their destination: a beautiful, pale pink house. It was larger than their own, which was quaint, the shingles sandy yellow. Matthew admired the floral details delicately painted on the doors. Those Italians were true aesthetes, and their house reflected that.

Before they had even run the doorbell, the ever so blithe Feliciano flew out of the door and pulled them into a tight hug. "Ve~ I'm so glad you guys could make it!" he shouted enthusiastically, releasing the two from his grasp.

"G-Glad to be here," Matthew stuttered, flustered by the open affection since Feli was still more of Al's friend.

At the same time, Alfred was pondering how good Feliciano's hugs were in comparison to Mattie's. Hm, well the Italian's were always too abrupt and harsh; Mattie's were hesitant and gentle. His brother was still the grand champion in that field.

"Well, come on in! Lovi! Al and Matt are here!"

The house was already bustling with people when Lovino emerged from the dancing crowd. "Dammit, Feli, do you have to be so loud? I can hear you over the stereo!" The brown-haired twin turned his attention to Alfred and Matthew, giving them his most condescending smirk. "Not these bastards."

"Good to see you too, man," Alfred replied, patting Lovino on the shoulder. He was used to Lovi's cold exterior by now. The boy just wasn't good at expressing his feelings in a positive way.

"Lovi!" Antonio hollered, jumping out from the mass of people to drag him back in. "Come on, let's dance!"

"Goddammit! Lemme go, you jackass!" Alfred laughed as Lovino pulled at the Spaniard's messy, dark hair while being hauled back to the massive den.

"Oh, presents!" Feliciano happily exclaimed. "That's so kind of you two! Here, let me take them off your hands. Have fun!" The Italian sauntered away with the gifts, his auburn hair curl bouncing with each step.

"Well, later!" Alfred declared before entering the moving throng. He could already tell from his brother's silence that he felt uncomfortable with all the people around. So Al would have fun while Mattie hid in a closet or something, and then he'd tease him about it later.

Matthew watched his brother walk off, almost opening his mouth in protest, but he was already gone. He sighed, thinking of how he'd feel less awkward if he had someone he knew with him. There were more people here than he'd expected, and he wasn't one for small talk or dancing. Maybe he could sneak off to the kitchen…

Walking down the empty hallway, he came across a white door with a circular window. It was like something out of a 50s diner. Peering through, he saw a sophisticated set up of cooking appliances and cabinetry. Success!

Slowly, Matthew pushed it open and hesitantly stepped inside, letting the door close without a sound. Examining his surroundings, he smiled. With the kitchen separated from the rest of the house, the only person he might run into would be Feliciano coming to refill snack bowls or something.

A sliding glass door in the corner caught his attention. It was shrouded with long white blinds, but he could see the clear, reflective surface in between several of them. There was probably a patio outside that it lead to-

Next thing he new, a familiar-looking Cuban was passing through it, a burnt out cigarette in his dark-skinned hand. The guy stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Matthew standing near the island in the middle of the kitchen. "…Alfred?" he asked, his tone hostile as he slammed the door back into place, shutting them off from the outside world.

Oh no, this must've been that ex-friend Al was always fighting. Realizing he was going to be beat to a pulp, Matthew raised his arms up in front of his face and pleaded, "No! I'm his brother, Matthew! Please don't hit me!"

The Cuban took a better look at the cowering blonde. He had Al's face all right, minus the violet eyes. But Al had short, straight hair, and this guy's hair was wavy and stopped at his chin. They were two different people.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, his voice softer now.

He wasn't going to be pummeled? Thank God! "I-It's okay," Matthew assured him, lowering his arms. "Happens all the time."

"What did you say your name was…Matthew? Cool. I'm Ramón." Ramón walked over to the Canadian and extended his hand.

Accepting the handshake, he replied, "N-Nice to meet you, Ramón. So, um, you were friends with Al at some time?"

Ramón moved to the sink to fully extinguish his cigarette before dropping it in the trash can. "Yeah, something like that. No offense, but your bro's an idiot. And a jerk."

Feeling the need to stand up for his brother, Matthew responded with, "I know you guys don't get along anymore, but Al is really a great guy. He just acts stupid sometimes."

"Uh huh." He really didn't care to talk about Alfred. "Hey, you wanna hang out sometime? We could play videogames or something."

"I-I dunno. I don't think Al would like that."

"Hey, you have the right to hang out with whoever you want, no matter what Mr. Hero says. He can't pick your friends for you."

"Well," Matthew conceded, "that's true. If he has a problem with it, he'll just have to get over it." Although he couldn't ever say that to Alfred's face. He wasn't brave enough.

"That's the spirit. Anyway," he tugged at a few of the black dreads tied back in a ponytail, "the only reason I came out here was to take a smoke. I'm gonna head back to the party now. You coming?"

He gave Ramón a meek grin before slumping against the island. "Nah. I think I'm just gonna stay here for awhile."

"Suit yourself." Ramón left Matthew to sit alone on the tiled floor.

Well, there was a pro and a con to this situation. Somehow, he'd made another friend; at least he thought he did. However, he had no idea how Alfred would react. Hopefully, he wouldn't get too mad.

**. . .**

Hopping down the porch stairs, Alfred and Matthew waved the Vargas brothers goodbye. Running the day's events through his mind, Matthew smiled as he remembered being towed back to the party by Feliciano after successfully hiding out in the kitchen for about an hour. There'd been a deliciously decorated cake and then the twins opened presents. The matching "I'm With Useless" shirts the Bonnefoy brothers gave them had been a hit, although Lovino seemed to slightly resent the joke. After that, the energy started winding down, and it was time to leave now that night had fallen.

"So," Alfred began once they were off the property, "where'd you run off to this time, the closet?" He was simply taunting Mattie since he was dying to see that endearing face pout and protest.

"Kitchen, actually." Matthew decided he might as well drop the bomb now. "I-I ended up running into and um, making friends with, um, t-that guy, um, Ramón."

The second set of footsteps stopped suddenly. Reluctantly, he turned around to find Alfred gaping at him. His body was trembling, and, was that _hurt_ written all over his face? Whatever it was, it was now replaced by rage.

"I-I can't believe you!" Al sputtered out. "Friends? F-FRIENDS? WITH THAT SON OF A BITCH?" Oh, this was betrayal. Absolute betrayal.

Matthew recoiled hard at the caustic words, wanting to cry. No way had he expected Al to be this upset. "I-I-"

"Don't talk to me," Alfred growled, his tone low and biting as he pushed his brother aside and ran ahead.

"Al!" Mattie chased after him, but Al was the most athletic of the brothers. By the time he reached the corner, Alfred was already running around the next, marked by the lit streets. Sighing, he gave up the pursuit and walked, tears stinging his eyes. God, why did he have to be so sensitive to his brother's emotions? He couldn't even think of a time Al had been even more furious than just then.

Eventually, the weary Canadian entered the house, just as he heard a bedroom door slam. Of course, Alfred waited until his brother got home to do so. Well, there wasn't any point in arguing while he was still mad. It was always best to let him cool down. Matthew would just have to make some hamburgers and Al would likely come down within ten minutes.

After pulling an apron over his head, he took the frozen patties out of the freezer and slapped them onto the griddle. He waited with his spatula ready, humming some love song he couldn't remember the name of at the moment. Sure enough, he heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs several minutes later. Matthew pretended he didn't notice and stayed focused on the hamburgers, flipping one of them.

Alfred padded across the tiled floor towards his brother, but Matthew paid no attention. Then the arms enclosed around his waist.

He gasped sharply at the contact, turning his head to the left as Al rested his chin on that shoulder. "A-Al, wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry Mattie." His eyes were unfocused, red, as if he'd been crying. "I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I just- I hate that guy."

Why did it feel so awkward to have his brother embracing him from behind? They were close, and it's not like it hadn't happened before. Well, maybe not from behind, but Al had definitely hugged him throughout all his life. Still, his cheeks flared.

Nevertheless, Matthew turned his head back to the stove, his eyes lidded. "I know you do. And I don't know what caused the fallout that makes you guys hate each other so much, but I should be allowed to be friends with him. You guys might not get along, but he seems nice to me."

Al shook his head lethargically. Crying always made him tired. "You don't know him, Mattie, you don't. I bet you didn't even know his name before today."

"I-I did! …All right, I didn't, but he can't be as bad of a person as you're making him out to be."

"He is. He hangs out with the wrong kind of crowd. He smokes and- and he steals guys' girlfriends, but he doesn't care about them; it's all just scoring to that bastard."

"…Oh my god." Of course, how had he not picked up on this before? "_That's_ why you hate him!"

"What?"

"Because he stole your girlfriend!"

"What are-?"

"When Jenna broke up with you, she was really dumping you for Ramón!"

"No! No, God, Mattie! That's not-"

"Yes it is! You were so broken up when she left you and you're complaining about him being a player! It has to be!"

"No, no Mattie," Alfred mumbled letting go of his brother in an effort to distance himself. "No, you don't know anything, _anything_. I wasn't even friends with him when the breakup happened. I-It has nothing to do with that."

"All right, the breakup might not have been the cause, but I know it has something to do with why you're not friends now. Your reaction says plenty."

"Matthew." He flinched at the sound of his name. Alfred _never_ called him that…unless he was dead serious. Al continued with his low, firm tone, "Let it go. All you need to know is that he's scum and you need to stay away from him."

Recovering from his shock, Matthew stared back, trying to appear unfazed. "T-That's something I'll have to decide for myself."

"…Fine," he caved, pulling out a chair to slouch in. What choice did Alfred have? There wasn't any way to explain it to him without reliving the pain. All he could do was hope that Mattie would figure out what a jerk Ramón was in the end. "But keep what I've said in mind."

"I will, Al." Matthew took the burgers off the stove, sliding them onto the plate. "So…are we cool?"

Alfred chuckled, answering, "Yeah, Mattie. We're cool."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER VII**

March came and went, and with April, the nights gradually gained in temperature. This particular night, a warm front was invading South Carolina and the local area was experiencing a thunderstorm. Matthew knew this wasn't _that_ unusual, but he didn't like the idea of a storm so early in the spring season. He hated storms in general, but it was the clashing gods of the thunderstorms that he dreaded most. Well, maybe this one would only rumble like a hungry stomach.

CRASH!

Make that a _starving_ stomach.

CRACK!

A starving stomach in _Haiti_.

Hugging Kumajirou close to his heaving chest, Matthew whimpered as the sky battled with itself, like a civil war. The rain imitated the pounding of soldiers marching; the thunder bursting like cannons. He wanted to run over to Alfred's room and climb into his bed, but he was hoping to keep some portion of his dignity that night.

There was a gentle knock on his door, and he recognized his brother peering through the open slit. It wasn't a Friday, so either Al had a nightmare or he knew Mattie would be freaking out. "You awake?" Alfred whispered.

"Y-Yeah." The sky lit up as it roared deafeningly, and Matthew couldn't help but flinch at the atmosphere's drumfire. He'd hoped that Al hadn't caught his movement, but it was inevitable.

Alfred didn't laugh, but offered a knowing smile as he walked in and shuffled under the sheets. Letting his brother curl up against him, he stroked the blonde ruffles of his hair. A chuckle escaped his mouth as he thought about how predictable Matthew was. The moment the weatherman had announced the arrival of the storm, Alfred had known this would happen. No, he had even anticipated it, for a reason he couldn't, just wouldn't understand.

"It's not funny!" Mattie whined, lifting his head up from his brother's comforting chest.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." He brought a hand to Matthew's back and rubbed it. The notion eased the tension in his muscles, and he quickly relaxed, growing increasingly tired. Matthew hated how he couldn't stay mad at his brother; Al was just too good. He gave up and nestled closer to him, his energy and terror draining as the storm began to recede.

Yes, this was just what Alfred was looking for; to soothe his brother's fears like no other. He was Matthew's righteous hero, always there to save the day. Still, even that hadn't been enough for him lately. He wanted to be the center of Matthew's universe.

Wasn't he already? Sure, his brother had some close friends, but those relationships were so unimportant compared to his with Al. Mattie rarely saw them outside of school since he usually isolated himself at home. All right, so there was that bastard Ramón he was hanging out with a lot more. But Al was the only one Matthew truly confided in and still the one he spent most of his time with. So Alfred had to be his brother's number one, right?

He smirked, drifting off with Matthew in his arms as he knew for sure that his brother's world revolved around him.

The two slept through the rest of the night without disturb. After hours of peaceful darkness, dawn arrived, slowly bringing light to the horizon. They lay, chests rising and falling even as the sun began to infiltrate the room.

Matthew's eyes started to flutter in the faint light that perforated the blinds. He recalled the previous night and its storm, grinning in light of a new day. Yet, something was bothering him, but he couldn't determine exactly what.

It hit him mercilessly: today was a school day, and the sun shouldn't be rising so early in the morning - unless it wasn't early.

Slowly and apprehensively, Matthew turned his head to look over at the alarm clock, and he emitted a sharp gasp. The clock was blinking 12:00 A.M. over and over, meaning the power had gone out at some point during the night. Since the machine needed to be reset, it didn't have the right time, and his alarm hadn't gone off.

Panicking now, he scrambled out from under the blankets and ran over to his backpack at the foot of his bed, remembering he'd left his cell phone there yesterday. He desperately flipped it open to reveal the time: 6:49 A.M.

"Al!" Matthew violently shook his brother awake, his breathing quickening. "Wake up! We're gonna be late!"

"Wh-What?" Al muttered, rubbing at his eyes. Damn, he'd been having such a great dream, saving Mattie from all sorts of bad guys.

"School starts in twenty-five minutes and we're not even dressed and we haven't had breakfast and the bus is already gone and Dad and Papa must have already left for work and-"

"Whoa, whoa, Mattie," Alfred stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. "Okay, breathe, breathe…"

Matthew tried to take deep breaths, but they kept coming in hitches as he was on the verge of tears. He'd never been late to school before. Tardiness meant detention, which would go on his previously spotless record. Overall, it was just plain trouble. "I-I-"

"Breathe. Breathe. Listen to me. I- are you listening to me?"

He nodded with difficulty, starting to sob.

"Shhh, shh, don't cry. Look, we'll get dressed fast and hop on Dad's motorcycle. I'll speed to make sure we get to school on time. Okay? Okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Mattie mumbled, getting his crying under control.

"All right, good. Now, I'm gonna go so you can get dressed, okay? Good." However, Matthew wasted no time, ripping off his shirt before Alfred even made it to the door. He was too frazzled to care if his brother saw. Al stopped in his tracks, distracted by the sudden revelation of skin. Oh, that skin, it was so _enticing_.

Matthew was about to pull down his sweats when he caught his brother's gaze. "Why are you just standing there? Get dressed!" He forcefully pushed Alfred out of the room and slammed the door. Remembering that they were going to be late, he rushed off to his room to change.

As he took off his shirt at a moderate pace, he thought of how he'd been so enthralled by his brother's body just moments before. He knew it wasn't right; Matthew was his brother, even if they weren't actually related. Yet, he couldn't quiet these urges that had come over him. He wanted to hold him, caress his fair skin…

"Are you dressed yet?" Matthew screamed as he burst through the door just as Alfred was pulling up his jeans.

"Privacy, Mattie! God!" As much as he tried to suppress it, he couldn't stop his face from tingling with heat, found half-naked by his adorable, yet basket case of a brother.

"You're too slow! Let me help-"

"WHOA! Hey, hey, HEY, get your hands away from there! Where's your decency?" Did Matthew actually just attempt to zip up his jeans? God, he was scary when he was panicking. "Look, go put on your jacket! I'll be right down!"

"But it's April! We don't need jackets!"

"No, the _leather_ jacket! And your gloves and your helmet! Go!" Great, he was getting frantic too.

Once he'd hurried Matthew out, Al threw on a random shirt and fixed his fly before snatching his empty backpack. Luckily, last week had been spring break and both of them had gotten minimal homework, so all their books were at school. The bags wouldn't get in the way during the ride.

He swiftly threw it over his shoulder and slid down the banister. Knowing how anxious Mattie was from how quickly he was pacing in the foyer, Alfred put his gear on as fast as he could. The brothers ran through the kitchen, skipping breakfast as they sped into the garage.

Slapping the garage door opener on the wall, Al stood on the concrete floor, waiting for the entrance to be sufficient to push the motorcycle out. Once he'd done so, Matthew following fretfully, he grabbed the remote out of his jacket and the garage began to close at the click.

The brothers climbed onto the seat, Matthew clinging desperately to Alfred as the vehicle roared to life. Going fifty-five in a thirty mile-per-hour zone, he raced through the streets, daring time to catch up to him. He was going to get them there on time because he was a hero, even if it meant bending the rules a bit.

Five minutes passed and the high school finally came into view. Alfred could feel his brother's grasp tighten in anticipation, his breath hastening, which only motivated him further. _Hold on, Mattie, _he thought as they approached the school. Slowing as he reached the parking lot entrance, the motorcycle turned in, catching everyone's attention. Alfred spotted a bike rack and pulled in, bringing the vehicle to a stop just before the curb.

Lifting the helmet from his head, Al sighed in relief as people were still in the lot, so they couldn't be late. Removing his brother's hands, he hopped off to chain the motorbike to the rack. It wasn't until he heard a loud thump combined with a sickening crack sound that he looked behind him. It took several seconds for Alfred's mind to grasp what had happened, and then his eyes widened as the panic set in.

"Matt-MATTHEW!" Alfred ran to his brother's side, almost hysterical as he yanked the helmet off to reveal an unconscious Matthew. Oh God, he must have hyperventilated so much that he passed out. Al could tell that he was still breathing, and the pulse was running strong when he placed his fingers on the boy's slender throat. His neck hadn't snapped, likely because of the protective headgear, so what had made that sound?

The twisted left arm caught his eye. "Hey!" He called out to the alarmed students standing still in the lot. "S-Someone call an ambulance!" A crowd started to gather, but all Alfred could focus on was Mattie's welfare. Not only that, but how he could possibly explain to his parents what had happened. _Did you have to get hurt in such a ridiculous way? _he thought as the girl next to him rapidly dialed the emergency number.

**. . .**

**(A/N: In my defense, I never once wrote in the summary or any of my notes that there would be a crash, or an accident in general. All I ever wrote was that Matthew got hurt falling off a motorcycle. Strange how the human mind works, huh? I apologize for any misleading, but I'd planned for it to happen this way since the beginning.)**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER VIII**

It was getting harder to breathe with every breath, each one faster than the one before it. Suddenly, they slowed, and Matthew saw the world go black, gravity tugging at his thin frame right before fading…

And here he was, eyes slightly lidded as a protective measure against the blinding sun, magnified through the glass panes. The light bothered him, but allowed him to glance around the sterile room, smelling only of cleanser and sanitary fibers. Rising to sit up in the bed, the crinkle of his clothes caught his attention, along with the difficulty he was having in propping himself up with his left arm. It was as if his arm was sealed stiff in place and he couldn't bend it to fit his needs.

Alfred sat in a seat to the left of the hospital bed, the rustling of the various fabrics tearing his eyes from the sports magazine to the location of the sounds. Before him was the sight of Matthew repositioning himself as he looked around, confused. The moment he turned his head to the right and spotted his brother, Al jumped out of his chair, much to surprise of the nurse entering the room.

"Oh my god, Mattie, you're alive!" he shrieked, bending over the side of the bed with Matthew's face thrust into his chest.

"Wh-pt-pft-pah!" He sputtered, the fabric of Al's shirt invading his mouth. In a futile attempt to get his brother to back off, Matthew tried pushing him away, realizing again that his arm wouldn't bend. "Pft-pt-off! Off! D-Down boy, pah!"

"Sir!" the nurse addressed Alfred, pulling at his dark leather jacket. "Sir, I must insist that you let go of the patient right now!"

"Did you hear that?" Al asked his brother, his grip slackening enough for Matthew to remove his face from the shirt. "She called me 'sir'!"

"Are you trying to suffocate me?" Matthew shouted, batting him away with his left arm.

It was then he saw the white wrappings surrounding it. Baffled, he lifted the arm up in front of him, his brows furrowed. Soon, his attention changed to the blue hospital gown he was wearing, the starchy fabric wrinkled like a paper bag. The thin sheets came into focus, followed by the rest of the bed and the white walls. It all melded together until his mind formed the logical conclusion. "…Hospital," he uttered softly. "I don't understand."

"You broke your arm, sir."

_No, really? _Matthew thought, but stopped the sarcasm from leaving his mouth, as that would be rude.

"You don't remember, Mattie? We were late to school, so I drove us on Dad's motorbike, but once I parked it you kinda fainted and fell off."

Matthew groaned, pushing the golden locks out of his face. "That's so _lame_…"

"Hey, think of it this way," Alfred suggested, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, "we got to miss a day of school thanks to this!"

"_We_? Why you too?"

"Well, of course I rode in the ambulance with you! What if there was a bomb in there, like in that _Criminal Minds _episode? I had to save you!"

"You just wanted to get out of class, didn't you?"

"Hey, you would too if you had Geometry first thing in the morning."

Alfred's mind was so simplistic; it was unbearably easy to figure out his motives. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Matthew asked, "So wait, is Dad here?"

"Yep," Al answered happily, pointing his thumb out the door. "Both of 'em. They left a while ago to get some food from the cafeteria. Of course, knowing them, that could be code for 'let's go screw in some supply closet'."

"…Um, I'll go find the doctor," the nurse said, clearly uncomfortable as she left the room.

Once she was gone, Matthew punched his brother in the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Must you assume that every time they're M.I.A. they're having sex? And to say so in front of that nurse? Have you forgotten where we live?"

"Jeesh, Mattie, she's already met them. Face it, with the way Papa acts, their relationship is anything but subtle."

His brother sighed, and Al laughed, pulling him close to his chest again. "Ah, come on, Mattie, lighten up. Look, if it makes you feel better, yes, missing school was part of the reason why I hopped into the ambulance, but it wasn't what I was thinking of at the time. I just didn't want you to be alone, okay? And as it turned out, the hospital would've had a hard time contacting Dad and Papa without my help since you were unconscious."

Matthew knew the sincerity in his brother's voice all too well, and it was comforting to know that Al actually thought about his well-being…sometimes. He let his head rest against Al's chest, taking in the scent of his brother through the soft cotton fabric. How was it that he always knew how to calm him down?

The peaceful silence was broken by the familiar sound of their parents fighting, their voices bouncing off the hallway's walls. "Oh, so this is all my fault?"

"Yes, yes it is, Francis! It was your idea, you bloody pervert!"

"_Mon amour_, how was I to know that the nurse would walk by-"

"Well you should have since it was _your_ idea!"

"Yes, it was my idea- an idea that you went along with."

"Well, well, how did she know we were in there? Nobody just decides to knock on a damned supply closet and tell you that your injured son just woke up!"

"Perhaps it was your rather loud moaning."

"Oh, sod off!"

"Have you forgotten? I just did."

"Then- then sod off again!"

"With pleasure…"

"Wh- H-HANDS OFF, YOU BLOODY FROG!"

As the squabbling went on, Matthew's mouth gaped open and he looked to his brother to confirm what he was hearing. All he found was Al's smirking face in light of his supposition being right on the money. "No flipping _way_."

"And you think I don't have a basis for most of what I say."

Arthur quickly walked into the room, and from the way his bristly hair was plastered to his forehead (Exhibit A), it was completely obvious what had happened. Francis followed soon after in a similar state, the buttons on his shirt messed up (Exhibit B). Somehow, it seemed the two of them thought their sons couldn't hear them in the hallway. Seeing what a perfect opportunity this was to piss off his dad, Alfred grin broadened and he asked cleverly, "So where's the food?"

"Huh?" was their reply.

"You know, the cafeteria food you spent, what, a half hour getting? Unless, of course, you _weren't _getting food and were doing something else _instead_, but what could that be?"

"Al," Matthew whined, knowing his brother's intentions.

"Uh, we, er, ate it there," Arthur answered, the heat clearly present in his face.

"Well, that was mean of you. Did it occur to you that I might be hungry, or that Mattie would wake up and want some food? You hungry, Mattie?"

"Well, um-"

Alfred didn't even wait for an answer; this was just too much fun. "Of course, if you think about it, there's no way in hell that Papa would eat hospital food because of his French pride. So where were you guys then?" He rested his elbow on the back of his hand and placed the other on his cheek, his witty smile wider, if that was even possible.

His face beet red, Arthur narrowed his eyes, irritated that Francis had convinced him into the supply closet and that now his own son was calling him out on it, as if _he_ were the parent. Francis just smiled, knowing they'd been beat and enjoying his husband's evident mortification.

Just then, the doctor came into the room, and once he saw the disheveled clothes of the two men, his expression changed to one that read, "Do I really want to know?" As he looked away from them and focused his attention on the patient, Matthew figured that no, he did not, and that was a smart choice.

"All right, so…" the doctor trailed off, glancing to the papers on his clipboard in search of the boy's name. "Matthew Bonnefoy, is it? Hello, I'm Dr. Strickler." He extended his right hand for the boy to shake, and he did so. "And you two are his…guardians?"

"Parents," Arthur answered, ruffling his own messy hair. "Adopted him and Alfred over here back when they were toddlers."

Dr. Strickler scratched his Hitler-esque mustache, as Matthew noticed, and seemed to mentally reminding himself that this was a business and he had to be professional, no matter his distaste. Matthew could feel the doctor's eyes scanning over the sons, likely pondering the classic "gay parents means gay children",…which at least in his case was true.

"I see. Matthew, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Besides the fact that my arm is broken."

"Yes, well, that will take a few months to heal, but the break was not severe, so the process should be finished by the end of June."

"That's good, I suppose," Arthur stated, rubbing his forehead in thought. "What about getting it wet?"

"Unfortunately, we are out of waterproof casts, so he cannot bathe alone."

"Well," Alfred began, a sly look creeping onto his face, "since Dad and Papa actually have jobs, looks like I'm going to have to help you with that."

The mental image that followed in Matthew's mind was more like a memory of the two of them as little kids, splashing around and wrestling with each other in the frothy bath water. Then he tried to imagine them in the same situation now, as teenagers. To bathe together with their developed selves, it would be so _intimate_. Children were innocent, unaware of the world's faults and impurities. It was different now; they knew better. Still, he let the figment continue without rest, flushing slightly at the thought of Alfred affectionately scrubbing his brother's skin.

_Wh-What am I thinking?_

As Matthew snapped out of the fantasy, he heard the doctor informing his parents that he would be discharged later today. With that, the three stepped outside of the room to discuss the bill and other details.

"Hey Mattie," Al said once the adults had left, leaning over the bed again, "move over."

Although he was unsure of his brother's objective, Matthew obliged, shuffling over to the other side as Al climbed on. In a swift flick, he pulled a black _Sharpie_ out of his jeans pocket. "The nurse wouldn't let me sign your cast until you woke up. So can I?"

"Oh, of course, Al," Matthew answered. Surely nothing could go wrong with signing a cast-

Then he saw that Alfred was taking up half of the space available for writing. "Hey! Why are you writing so big?"

"Well, I'm your bro. That means I'm entitled to write as big as I want. Besides, it's not like that many people are going to sign this."

"Hey!"

Alfred just laughed and tackled his brother lovingly. Matthew, surprised by the action, was convinced that he had some chronic blushing disorder.

"Off! OFF!"

**. . .**

**(A/N: You guys have no idea how much I missed writing FrUk. The "Exhibit A" and "Exhibit B" lines were inspired by my editor, AnimeOtakuFreak1029's comments. Anyway, I'm announcing here that school is starting to get hectic again, so I'll do my best to keep this story running on schedule.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N: So, Spring Break is coming around next week, and I'm sad to say that where I'm going, I'm not having internet access, so my stories will not be updated until the week of April 4****th****. I'll still be working on them, but I won't be able to post them. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!)**

**CHAPTER IX**

A week had passed since Matthew had broken his arm, and now the cast was covered in more signatures than he could count. Due to the whole lot of media coverage about the incident, (his dad said that it was just because nothing interesting ever happened in town), there wasn't a person in his school that didn't know his name. Left and right, people were coming up to him and asking to sign his cast. It was a little overwhelming, and although the attention was rather embarrassing, a tiny part of him was enjoying it.

Once the lunch bell rang, Matthew rushed to his locker to gather the books for his next classes, along with his lunchbox, and headed off in the direction of the janitor's room. After all, it was the only way to get to the roof. He knocked on the door, and the monotone "Password?" immediately followed.

"K-Pop for the win," the Canadian answered.

"Password accepted," the voice answered, turning the lock and granting the boy access. Matthew walked into the small closet as the janitor returned to his seat, a comic book in hand. "Head right on up, little man," he said, pointing the stairs against the right wall.

"Thanks, Hank." Matthew ran up the metal staircase to his destination. With a simple push, he opened the door to find Yong Soo and Kateryna already digging into their lunches. Kateryna spotted him and waved, too polite to speak with food in her mouth.

"Yo, Matt!" Yong Soo greeted him. "How's it going?"

"Oh, you know," he replied, plopping down next the Korean, "just more people coming up to me with _Sharpies_ and what not."

"I still can't believe _that_ many people signed your cast," Yong Soo stated in awe before slurping up some ramen. "How's Alfred taking it?" They all knew how much the American loved the limelight, and now his brother had snatched it away from him.

_Suck on that, Al, _Matthew thought, smirking as he pulled a PB&J sandwich out of his lunchbox. "Eh, he's as shocked as I am. I mean, really, he took up half the space, thinking 'Oh, Mattie's a nobody, so I can write as big as I want', or some crack like that."

The three's attention moved to the door as Ramón pushed it open. "Hey guys," he said before sitting opposite Matthew. This was the first time the Cuban was joining their lunch group. "Honestly, Yong Soo, how'd you convince the janitor to give you the roof? People fight over the right to eat here every year." And who could ask why? With its tall chain-link fence, the comfortable breeze and incredible view, the roof was safe and the hottest place to enjoy lunch.

"Heh, I bribed him with K-Pop. It's like it speaks to his soul or something."

"Cool. So, what'd I miss?"

"Just Matt telling about his sudden popularity," Kateryna informed him, taking out a yogurt cup, "and about how Al doesn't like it."

"Augh, it's way worse than that," Matthew tried to explain, placing a palm over his forehead. "He's so irritable lately. I don't know if he's just pissed that he's not the center of attention, but if someone even tries to say 'Hi' to me, he'll drag me off, suddenly remembering some 'urgent' thing we have to do. And then when I ask him about it, he gets all defensive and tells me he's just trying to protect me."

"Sounds like what's been going on with Ivan and me," Kateryna connected. "Don't worry. Once the press all dies down, people will lose interest and Al will go back to normal…unlike my brother."

"I hope so." Yet, that wasn't true. He wouldn't ever say it aloud, but Matthew secretly savored this treatment. He liked that Alfred was so concerned about him, even though it was overbearing at times. Sure, it was interfering with a possible social life, but he had his brother's envy, and that mattered more to him than the attention of random people. He didn't want it to die down; without the competition, Al would just return to his daily life in the spotlight, and Matthew could say goodbye to any chance of having his brother's focus on him.

…Was that really true? He thought back to a week ago, and how Alfred had comforted him during the storm. How many of his friends had brothers that would climb into their beds and let them huddle close as thunder raged outside? His mind wandered farther, back to their movie nights, the day they spent at the park, and all the other little things that meant so much.

It curved around, and he was reminded of the baths Alfred had given him over the past few days. Most siblings would complain about such a chore, but Al happily embraced it, laughing as he washed out Matthew's hair. The one thing he did object to was that Mattie refused to strip down completely and wouldn't allow Al to get into the bath with him. So his brother went off spouting stuff like, "Real men aren't afraid to get naked," which had only made Matthew blush harder. Matthew resented his prudence, but they were both growing teenagers, and it'd be too awkward for him since he swung the other way, even if Al _was_ his brother. Of course, Matthew didn't want him to know that, so he told Alfred to shut up and get over it. He had complied and then splashed his brother playfully.

Pondering all these things, Matthew realized Al was truly devoted to him. There were times when he'd shrug his responsibilities and sometimes forget Mattie was there, but when he paid attention to him, the moments were bliss. He smiled warmly, knowing that Alfred would (almost) always be there for him. But then the eternal question persisted to infiltrate his thoughts: if Al wasn't jealous of his brother's fifteen minutes of fame, why was he being so overprotective?

Meanwhile, Ramón was resisting badmouthing Alfred, only because he knew Matthew was fond of his brother. It wouldn't score him any points with the cute blonde, no matter how much he wanted to slam Al, so he kept his mouth shut until he thought of some acceptable criticism.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the entryway was thrust open once again, this time by a rather perturbed Alfred. This couldn't possibly be good, having the Cuban and the American within feet of each other, their hatred burning. "Speak of the devil," Ramón declared, his tone contemptuous. "We were just talking about how you're such an attention-whore."

"Ramón," Matthew chastised, feeling the sudden tension in the atmosphere. Surprisingly enough, Al didn't seem affected by the last comment.

"I heard I'd find you here," Alfred told him, unfazed. "I'm not here to start a fight. All I want is a nice, civil discussion. Think of it like a peace talk."

Well, Ramón sure hadn't been expecting this. As much as he preferred punching out their issues, he was intrigued as to what would cause the American make such a proposition. "Really, now? About what?"

"…I'm not talking until Mattie and his friends leave. This is between us."

"Huh. Well, I'm not gonna lie, this is interesting. You promise not to fight?"

"I won't throw a punch if you don't."

"All right, I accept."

"Good," Alfred stated, turning his attention to the others. "You guys mind waiting down there until we're done?"

"Al," Mattie whined, grabbing his brother's arm. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

Alfred's serious demeanor changed, and he smiled brightly at his brother, ruffling the golden locks. "Look, it's nothing you need to worry about. We agreed not to fight, so you can just head on down."

"Al, you're not really one to keep your temper. Neither is Ramón, but I'm more worried that _you're_ going to attack him."

"Well, what if Yong Soo stays up here to intervene should things get out of control?" He looked to the Korean and continued, "Just listen to your music or something. I don't want you listening either."

"Works for me," Yong Soo obliged, pulling the headphones over his ears. Deep down, he wanted to hear the conversation, as eavesdropping was another hobby of his, but he grudgingly obeyed Al's wishes.

Reluctant, Matthew released his grip on his brother's arm and followed Kateryna down the stairs. He tossed a concerned look over his shoulder towards Al before Yong Soo closed the door.

"So what's this about?" Ramón asked curiously, pulling a box of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hadn't a clue what the boy wanted to discuss, and with his nerves acting up, he needed a smoke.

Alfred reverted to the humorless manner, replying, "I want you to stay away from Mattie."

"…No offense, Alfred," the Cuban retorted, lighting one of the cigarettes, "but I don't care what you want."

"Fine." He snatched the cigarette from the dark hand and threw it down, grinding it under his foot. Clearly not amused, he continued, "Then I _demand_ that you stay away from him."

"Hm, I don't know about that," Ramón taunted him, indignantly lighting another one. "Matt and I are pretty good friends now. I'm guessing that you've already talked to him about this, and he didn't agree with you. Why else would you come to me?"

When Alfred didn't respond, he took the chance to ridicule him. "…Hm, what is it you always call him? 'Mattie'?" He saw the tension rise in Al's shoulders, and carried on, smirking cruelly. "That's a cute nickname, you know. Fitting for him. Don't you think he's cute? _I_ do."

"…Look, Ramón," Alfred addressed him, his fists trembling as he tried to suppress his anger, "I don't care what you think of him because I _know_ what you think, and I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"Now, why do you think I'd do that?"

"You know why."

"How can I? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't _toy_ with me! I don't know exactly what you're planning, but whatever it is, it's not going to happen while I'm around."

Blowing a puff of smoke, the Cuban then mocked him, "Tell me, have you always had such a brother complex?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" His face burned, partly from anger, partly from humiliation.

"I mean, I know you've always had this obsession with saving people, but don't you think you go overboard when it comes to Matt? Before you got here, he was telling us about how upset you were that he was getting a lot of attention. Now, if you ask me, that's not just overprotective - it's possessive."

Judging from Alfred's trembling, Ramón knew he was in control of the conversation, and he decided it was time to inflict the critical blow. "You know, if I didn't know any better…I'd say you were in love with your brother." And now he smoked patiently, waiting for the shouts, the rebuttals, and the rage.

However, they didn't come. Confused, he looked to the American, whose eyes were wide and whose mouth was gaping open, stunned. What, had the mere suggestion of incest been too much for him to handle?

Alfred wasn't shocked by his feelings for Matthew. He'd had them for a while now, and bad; he'd only accepted them within the past week. Nevertheless, those desires had been present in him for so long: before the storm, before the baths, and definitely before that…_special_ dream he had last night. Alfred had embraced his feelings, knowing he wanted Matthew so _much_, even if it was wrong.

No, what shocked Alfred was that Ramón knew…and that was problematic. "H-H-" he stuttered, his lips unable to form words, "H-How…?"

"…Oh my god," Ramón breathed, the cigarette slipping from his fingers, abandoned on the ground. There was no way…no _way_…

It was then that Al realized the Cuban actually hadn't known, and that he'd just given his enemy a crucial, life-ruining piece of information. His face paled in horror at the situation. This wasn't happening; it couldn't be. "N-No, you don't understand-"

"You are…Oh my god, you really _are_…"

It was over - he'd been found out, and there wasn't any way to cover it up now that it was out in the open. As best as he could, he sucked up his pride and endured the mortification, snapping, "Y-Yeah? Well, wh-what are you going to do about it?"

Trying to regain his composure, Ramón answered, "I-I don't know. It wouldn't do me any good to spread it around. Like anyone would actually believe that…you…my _God_, Alfred." He couldn't believe it himself. In fact, besides revulsion, he even felt _pity_ for the guy. Sighing, he continued, "Well, I know one thing: I'm not giving up on Matt, especially not after this. Don't worry; I'll keep my mouth shut. Just remember that you're in for a brutal competition."

"…Th-that's all this is to you," Alfred concluded, feeling the water brimming his eyelids. He would not cry…not in front of this bastard. "That's it, that's _always_ it - just another competition."

"…I'm leaving now," Ramón declared, the distaste prevalent in his voice. He motioned for Yong Soo, who had been watching the intense confrontation without the pleasure of sound, to follow him down the stairs. Once the door closed, Alfred lowered himself to the ground, letting the tears trickle down as his sobs filled the air.

Everything ached, and he longed for the comforting embrace of his brother. He loved him, actually _cared_ about him, and now he was suffering for it. Whether it was right or wrong, he wanted Matthew all to himself, and he knew it wouldn't go away.


	10. Chapter 10

**(A/N: Happy Easter! So, this story is starting to get heated up. If anyone thinks I need to move the rating up, I will.)**

**CHAPTER X**

Matthew knew something was wrong. He'd known since the moment Alfred came down from the school roof's stairs, eyes red, but faking a smile for the sake of his brother. In the weeks that followed, it became more and more obvious. Gone was his confident, optimistic attitude, along with that beautiful smile. These traits only returned whenever Matthew entered the room, in the desire to assure him that everything was all right, disappearing right after he left.

He wasn't the only one to notice; their parents, their friends, even their teachers noticed the sudden change in Alfred's behavior. Every day, he dragged himself out of bed; didn't talk, smile, or laugh; only with Matthew. Al was actually focusing on schoolwork, using it to distance himself from whatever was upsetting him. Dad and Papa would look to each other, to their ailing son, and to Matthew, searching for answers no one had. The latter wasn't sure how long he could stand the stifling torment that plagued his brother. He had only seen him so dejected twice before: after the breakup with his girlfriend Jenna, and after his fallout with Ramón.

For days, he tried to convince Ramón to tell him what the conversation was about, knowing it was the cause of his brother's depression, but the Cuban refused.

"Why not?!" he'd shouted at him, aggravated as no one would tell him what was going on. Why did everyone insist on treating him like a child?

"I'm not at a liberty to repeat what we talked about to anyone, especially you," Ramón explained. "Look, I may hate the guy, but I said I'd keep my mouth shut, and that's what I intend to do."

"No! Don't! Don't intend! Please, just this once…" His violet eyes implored the Cuban to disclose what he was promising to conceal.

"Sorry, Matt, but I can't tell you."

Sighing and seeing as nothing was coming out of this approach, he attempted to get some information out of Yong Soo. Of course, this had to be the one time he actually followed directions and resisted eavesdropping.

When all else failed, he turned back to Alfred, desperate to ease his brother's misery. Matthew hated to see him like this. He missed the sparkle in his blue eyes, the flash of a genuine smile - all aspects of the confident persona now missing. No matter how hard Mattie tried to get his brother to confide in him, the American continued the façade. He put on that counterfeit grin Matthew detested so much and assured him there was nothing to worry about. It was as if Alfred didn't have any idea as to how much it hurt Matthew to see him suffer, when he didn't have to go through it alone. And if he did, he was purposely ignoring it in an effort to stop his brother from getting involved, for a reason the Canadian couldn't figure out.

As the earth was nearing the end of April, Matthew lay awake in the darkness, in only his boxers with the sheets pushed to the foot of the bed. The air was sweltering, and even with the window open, he couldn't find relief. Unable to fall asleep under the sultry conditions, he reminisced about the last few movie nights he'd shared with his brother.

They hadn't been the same, as Mattie was now the one who ended up clinging to his brother (which was somewhat difficult with his cast) and sneaking into his bed. Alfred's attention was never on the film for a single moment, and Matthew realized why the last time they'd carried out the tradition. Out of the corner of his eye, when Al probably thought he wasn't looking, he caught the boy staring at him with the most longing expression he'd ever seen. All he could surmise from that look was that Alfred was dying to unload his burdens onto Matthew, but he wouldn't allow it. If only Al knew how willing he was to let him.

Soon, light rapping sounded, and he turned his eyes to the door, already going through the elimination process in his head. It was a Thursday, and there wasn't a storm, so the only other option was that Alfred had a nightmare. His heart pounded with excitement, hoping that maybe his brother would finally open up about what was troubling him, and Matthew could alleviate the pain.

"…Mattie?" Al asked softly, and even in the faint moonlight, he could see the anguish in his brother's eyes.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He nodded, and Mattie couldn't help but smile sweetly as he patted the spot next to him. Alfred obliged and came forward, climbing up onto the bed. Matthew began shifting over onto his side to make room, only to be stopped by hands pinning him to the mattress.

Confused, he looked up nervously at Al, wondering what was going on. To his disbelief, Al lowered himself on top of him, resting his head on Matthew's bare chest. He found himself immobilized in the alarming situation, blushing as he realized both of them only had their boxers on. Wait, why was he even thinking about that? They were brothers!

"A-Al?" he stuttered, unsure what to think.

"Don't leave," Alfred muttered into his brother's chest, tears dripping onto the unclothed skin.

"Al, I'm not going anywhere," Matthew attempted to reason with him, rubbing his back with his right arm since his left was in the cast. Was this what had been bothering him? "You can get off."

"No. You'll leave if I do." Alfred shook his head to further express so, and his blonde hair grazed his brother's nipple. Matthew let out a little squeak at the contact, flushing harder at how he was reacting to such a simple touch. And Al was his brother! His _brother_!!

"N-No, I won't."

"Yes you will. You'll leave. You'll leave with him."

"Him?"

"Ramón," Al bitterly spat out the name.

So he was afraid Matthew was going to leave with the Cuban. Just what the hell was he babbling on about? "Don't tell me you're still upset that I'm friends with him. Honestly, why do you hate him so much?"

"…I don't want him to hurt you," he asserted, deliberately avoiding the question.

"He's not going to hurt me."

"He'll hurt you. He will. He doesn't care. He never cares."

"Al-"

"Just stay here," Alfred insisted, pulling himself up higher to rest his head in the crook of his brother's neck. Matthew's face flared up even more as hot breath met the sensitive flesh, unable to stop himself from letting out a quiet moan. His skin was gradually gaining in fervency, his nipples beginning to harden. Then, in horror, he realized they weren't the only things hardening. His brother was turning him on. …His _brother_ was turning him _on_.

Al tensed up, and Matthew's face burned more than ever before in mortification. "…Are you hard?"

"H-How would I kn-know?!" he sputtered, realizing how ludicrous his flustered response was, in that he would _have_ to know. Of course, Al could tell, likely because with the position they were in, that _it_ was prodding him. Wait, from the way he was laying on top of Matthew, _it_ would be prodding against his _own_…Ohhhhh; these thoughts were doing nothing to help control him.

"Well, _something_ is poking me in the crotch, and I don't think you have a screwdriver down your pants."

"Uh, u-um, well, I do," Matthew lied, trying anything he could to get out of this predicament. Hopefully, Al was too tired to use common sense. Judging from the drowsy slurring of his words, that seemed to be true.

"What?"

"I have a screwdriver down my pants."

"…Why?"

"B-Because…I didn't want the maple syrup to get lonely." God, he'd never been good at improvisation, but this was pathetic. Oh well, he'd have to wing it for now and hope that Alfred bought it in his weary state.

"You also have a bottle of maple syrup down there?"

"N-No, just maple syrup. Spread over my, uh, thighs."

"…Can I lick it off?" he breathed into Matthew's neck, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine and rousing him further.

"Wh-What?! N-No! No, don't be stupid!"

"But it's sticky, right? Isn't it making you uncomfortable?"

There were several things making Matthew uncomfortable right now, but he tried to push them out of his mind. "No, I, uh, like it. I like the stickiness. It feels nice."

Alfred snickered softly, raising his head up from the nook of his brother's neck to smile up at him. Oh God, it was that genuine smile he'd coveted to see again for so long. However, the moment was broken once Al mumbled, "That's so kinky, Mattie."

Face flaring, he ordered, "Sh-Shut up and go to bed."

"Okay…" Al conceded, returning to Matthew's neck and nuzzling it a bit before drifting off. Soon, Matthew felt the rhythmic rising and falling of his brother's chest. Relieved, he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. God, he'd just dodged the bullet there…and that was the problem. He shouldn't have needed to dodge that bullet in the first place.

Just recounting what had just happened was humiliating. He was so ashamed; it was as if his body had drifted away from him, unbound by the kosher laws. How excited he got from the simple contact of their skin…it was so wrong. Alfred was his brother, maybe not of blood relation, but it was still completely unacceptable to have that kind of reaction…and even worse to like it.

Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh God, he'd liked it. He had since the moment Al pinned him down, although he didn't realize it at the time. And once his brother's breath danced on his skin, Matthew was absolutely _craving_ it, secretly pleading for more and more inside his head.

…What exactly was it that he was craving: the physical intimacy between them, or the emotional? Either way, it was just plain wrong…but he wanted both. Finally, after weeks, he'd seen Alfred's authentic smile again, and that made him feel so…high. The whole situation had made him feel on cloud nine…but it was wrong.

But it felt right. Matthew liked how close he was to his brother, and he didn't want him to ever leave. He wanted to hold him, bathe with him, sleep with him; just anything he could to spend more time together. All because he loved him.

…That was it: he loved his brother. Loved him more and in different ways than one should love his brother, but loved him so nonetheless.

Matthew looked to his brother's sleeping face, his parted lips, wondering if such adoration could ever be right. As he bent down to steal a kiss in the night, he made his decision.

Yes, yes it was right.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER XI**

When Matthew woke up the next day, Alfred had already left his room. He came downstairs to find his brother was back to his optimistic self, his world at peace again. Watching him run around again like a laughing fool filled Matthew with unadulterated joy. But his own impending depression stalked closer every time he saw Alfred.

At this point, he had accepted his feelings, finding them right in his mindset. After all, they weren't blood-related, and he had acknowledged his own sexuality long ago. What saddened Matthew was that every glimpse of his perfectly straight brother mocked him, taunting him that what he wanted, he could never have.

Matthew assumed that Alfred didn't remember the previous night, and if he did, he didn't bring it up. By some insane miracle, he must have actually bought the poor excuse he made for his "predicament", as Al wasn't acting awkward around him. His brother's beautiful smile had been revived, and over the following week, he savored every moment they spent together, intoxicated by his presence.

Nevertheless, the moments were bittersweet, as if God was dangling Alfred before him, only to pull away once Matthew reached for him desperately. Never would he have a chance with his brother, and this knowledge wounded him deeply. Al seemed completely unaware to Mattie's growing sorrow, unintentionally teasing him with every sighting.

As he sat with his friends at lunch one day, they noticed how although his brother was in high spirits again, he was still subdued. When they asked him what was wrong, he gave a halfhearted smile and assured them he was okay. The half-bell rang, and Ramón had to head off to lab, while Yong Soo left to spend the rest of lunch with Yao and Kiku. Matthew and Kateryna waved them off as the door to the roof closed.

For a few minutes, they sat beside each other in silence; Matthew taking dismal bites out of his sandwich as Kateryna scooped yogurt into her mouth. Finally, she decided to break it. "Matt," she addressed him with a worried tone, "what's bothering you?"

He looked up from his lunch at the sound of her voice, quickly averting his eyes once he saw the concerned look on her face. Forcing a smile, he told her, "Don't worry, Kat. I'm fine."

"…Don't lie to me. You're doing the same thing Al did when you confronted him."

The moment the words left her lips, he flinched, his brother's name searing into his heart. Any mention of Alfred overcame him with adoration…and injury. She had inflicted a decisive blow, but he wasn't ready to give in yet. "Kat, I told you-"

"Stop it!" she demanded, tears welling up in her turquoise eyes. She rubbed them away as they trickled down her face. Her short gray-blonde hair bounced with the hitches in her breath. "Wh-Why won't you tell me?"

"…You don't understand."

"I-Isn't that wh-what Al said to you?" The name stung him again, along with the water in his eyes. "You told me all about th-this when he was upset. Don't th-think you can fool me with the s-same tricks when they didn't w-work on y-you. Please, I h-hate seeing you like th-this."

Sighing, Matthew contemplated the idea of confiding in her. The weight of his heart was becoming an overwhelming burden, and Kateryna would never be judgmental. Still, he carefully planned out exactly what he would say before opening his mouth.

"…I'm in love with someone I can't have," he admitted, hoping that his friend wouldn't ask any questions. He wanted to keep his statement as vague as humanly possible.

"I-It's because he's straight, isn't he?"

Matthew whipped his head around to face her, the shock unmistakable in his expression. "How-"

"I've known for awhile n-now," she timidly explained.

The Canadian turned away from her, blushing profusely as the tears slowly trailed down his burning cheeks. His pain in loving Alfred and the humiliation of his friend already knowing he was gay melded as he cried, too much for him to take. Whatever dignity he had hoped to keep vanished now as he broke down in front of her.

"Matt, I'm sorry," Kateryna apologized, hugging him to her chest.

"D-Don't be," he spoke through his sniveling. "I'm as…as gay as my parents." It was the first time he actually said it aloud. He'd always thought it, but he had never officially said it. "Is it th-that obvious?"

"Not really. I've known you for so long that I picked up on it, but I doubt anyone who didn't really know you would."

"…Who else kn-knows?"

"I think Yong Soo does. I'm not sure about Ramón."

"…What about Al?" Matthew knew the question would come back to bite him, but he wanted to know.

"I don't know. I'd think he would since you guys are such close brothers, but he _is_ the notoriously oblivious Alfred."

Sniffling, he pulled away from her embrace, dwelling on the answer. Well, it was still a possibility that Al didn't know, so he'd better be cautious and keep it that way.

"How well do you know him?" Kateryna inquired.

"P-Pretty well. Why?"

"He might not be straight for sure, right?"

"He's dated girls. He's t-totally straight."

"He could be bi."

"Kat, he's straight. I'm sure of it."

"…Is it Ramón?"

Matthew's violet eyes widened, as he now understood the real purpose behind her inquisition. She was trying to figure out who he was in love with…and he'd just painted himself into a corner. He was only close to three guys, and Yong Soo was openly gay, so of course she had eliminated Alfred, resulting in Ramón.

Knowing the jig was up, after she'd cleverly pulled the wool over his eyes, he couldn't lie to her at this point. "…No," he confessed, "it's not."

Kateryna stared at him, clearly confused. "I don't understand. Yong Soo likes guys, and the only other person left is…"

She trailed off, her eyes dilating as she realized the meaning of her words. Matthew averted his glance from her, bursting into tears for the second time that day. "Oh, Matt!" she cried, pulling him close again. "It's okay, Matt, it's okay." Her fingers ran through his wavy hair in an attempt to soothe him.

"N-No it's n-not!" he sobbed into her chest, clutching her shoulder in his anguish. "H-He's completely straight, and there's no- no way he'd ever think of me as m-more than his brother!"

"Well…you never know. You guys have the same parents, so maybe he also has some gayness in him." Kateryna knew it wasn't much comfort, but it meant something.

Matthew couldn't help but laugh through his sobs, thinking of how absurd the idea was. There was absolutely no way that Al had even an ounce, no, a tiny molecule of gay in him. Then the mere thought of gay molecules sent him into a fit of hysterics as Kateryna looked down at him, baffled.

"What's so funny?" she asked him.

"G-Gay molecules!" Matthew shouted, slipping out of her grasp as he rolled around on the roof. His ribs hurt so much from all of the laughter, but he couldn't stop. He made sure not to roll onto his cast since that would probably hurt.

"Wh-What?" If she wasn't concerned about his mental health before, she was now. "What are you-?"

"He doesn't have a single g-gay molecule in his b-b-body! Gay molecules, ha ha ha!"

Despite how ludicrous it was, Kateryna started laughing too. They both giggled like lunatics until the official bell rang and they had to go to class. The two made their way down the stairs and out of the janitor's room. Kateryna grabbed his shoulder before parting ways, since Matthew now went to Study Hall instead of Gym thanks to his broken arm. "Matt, don't worry. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm sure this will all turn out well."

He gave her his most sincere smile, glad that she supported him through all of this. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go to your Study Hall, and let the gay molecules be with you." Matthew chuckled and waved goodbye as he walked away. He felt empowered as her words repeated over in his head. Maybe everything _would_ turn out all right.

**. . .**

The rest of the day had been rather uneventful for Matthew. He made it to Study Hall just in time, strolling in right as the bell rang. His teacher hadn't arrived yet, as usual, so Matthew climbed the stairs and chose a random seat in the stands. It didn't matter where he sat every day since he was the only student in the class.

Soon enough, Matthew heard the clack of his teacher's heels coming down the hallway, and he began the day's homework. Time passed fast, and before he knew it, the bell had rung.

He managed to make it through the remainder of his classes before finally leaving and boarding the bus. Thankfully, it wasn't Friday, so the students weren't franticly running to the buses and he wasn't trampled. Patiently, he watched for Al to emerge from the gym's back doors, since he knew his brother had that class at the end of the day. If he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging back forth, eagerly waiting for his master to return home.

The moment Alfred came out, Matthew's heart began to race, excited by the sight of his brother. The boy ran to the bus and hopped on, flashing Mattie his signature smile as he took the seat next to him. Although he smelled of sweat, a scent most would find pungent, Matthew found him unbearably sexy, with the way his short blonde hair was plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck. God, he was just so _hot_…and if he didn't stop thinking these stirring thoughts, he was going to have a hard time explaining to Al why he didn't want to get up when they reached their stop. This time, he wouldn't be able to justify it as a simple screwdriver that was clearly out of place.

"Hey, Mattie," Alfred greeted him, panting in between his words. This provided Matthew with a stimulating mental image as he painstakingly kept in an aroused whimper, his jeans starting to bulge. He discreetly pulled his shirt down to try and cover himself, though his flushing face was impossible to hide.

"H-Hi, Al," Matthew answered, mentally slapping himself for stuttering. "I see you came from Gym."

"Yeah," Al replied, running fingers through his dampened hair, "I really worked up a sweat today. I gotta take a shower or something when we get home."

"Oh, okay. Actually, I wanted to bathe today too, so let me in when you're finished."

"Wouldn't it make more sense just to bathe together?"

"…What?"

"Well, you can't bathe by yourself, so if we bathe together, it would save time and water, so we'd be eco-friendly!"

Matthew's face flared at the thought, which was doing nothing to help his tightened jeans. "R-Really, Al, th-that's not necessary…"

"Come on," Alfred pleaded, "don't you want to save the polar bears?"

Polar bears…he just _had_ to bring up the polar bears. Immediately, Mattie thought of Kumajirou. He had an irrational love for the stuffed animal, and all the talk of global warming and the icecaps melting always made him sad because of the poor polar bears. Of course, Al would use that against him to get his way.

"…O-Okay," he reluctantly conceded, "but o-only because of the polar bears."

"Yay!" Alfred brusquely hugged his brother, who squeaked loudly at the contact. Oh, this was going to be a long, torturous ride home.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER XII**

Finally, the bus pulled up to the boys' stop, both practically jumping out of the door the moment it opened. "Race you home, Mattie!" Alfred shouted, breaking into a sprint. Matthew padded after him, sweating under the scorching May sun. He really hated it when his brother made him chase after him, since Al was the more athletic one, but he kept up the futile pursuit, his mind elsewhere.

For over a month now, Al had given him baths, but now they were going to take one together. He should've refused and demanded that his brother take a shower by himself and then let Matt in to have a bath. That would've been the smart thing to do, so why the hell had he agreed to this? _Oh, right, because I can't say no to that sexy smile,_ Matthew thought, irritated at his lack of self-control. Well, at least his "predicament" had gone…for now.

By the time he opened the front door, he could already hear the water running in their shared bathroom upstairs. Matthew sighed, his heart pounding in anticipation as he ascended the staircase, the fateful door looming before him. He reached for the doorknob, simply touching it in hesitation. Taking a deep breath, Mattie turned the knob and gently pushed the door open.

Inside awaited Alfred, his shirt already discarded on the tile floor as he removed his jeans. Matthew immediately blushed and slapped one hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"What are you saying sorry for?" Al teased him, yanking his brother inside as he closed the door behind him. "Come on, like we haven't changed in front of each other before." How adorable his brother was, fretting over a little skin.

"S-Sorry."

"Mattie, relax…" Alfred soothed him, tugging the hem of Matthew's shirt up over his head to reveal the tantalizing pale torso. He was careful in pulling his brother's cast through the sleeve. "It's just a bath."

"Right, right," he agreed, nodding quickly and wishing he could calm down.

All hopes of that vanished once he realized Alfred was slowly pushing his boxers down. Panicking, Matthew clasped his brother's waistband with his free hand to prevent him from taking them off. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It's a _bath_, Mattie. Do you seriously think I'm going to keep my boxers on?"

"W-Well, you should! There's no reason to be indecent!" As much as he secretly wanted to see his brother like that, there was no way his better sense would allow it.

Alfred groaned, grudgingly removing his hands from the clothing. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun if they weren't naked, but he had to respect Mattie's wishes. "God, you're such a prude. Fine, but you still have to take off your pants."

Why was Al so adamant on making him strip? Sighing, he awkwardly shoved off his jeans and kicked them aside, holding his wrapped arm over his chest in discomfort. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, and without the security of his clothes, he was just so.

His brother led him to the bathtub and helped him settle in the warm water before climbing in behind him. Matthew's face flushed in the rising steam, sensing the legs surrounding him on both sides. If he were to lean back, his arm resting on the side of the tub, he would've laid against Alfred's whole body. He entertained the thought as hands ravaged his hair, the frothy lather of shampoo infiltrating the strands. The serenity of the situation invigorated him, and he began to drift into an afternoon lull.

"Okay, now bend forward," Al instructed him, grabbing the small bucket on the side to fill with water. Matthew complied, enjoying the way the surge rushed the suds away. He lightly shook his head to rid it of the moisture, careful not to spray his cast.

Next came the soap and washcloth, and Mattie bit his bottom lip harshly when the rough fabric brushed over his nipples. This was exactly the sort of thing he'd been trying to avoid, obviously to no avail. Well, as long as he didn't let out any sounds and focused on something else, Matthew figured he should be okay. Of course, that all depended on how much restraint he actually had, something he was still unsure of.

Alfred continued to scrub his brother's skin, wetting the washcloth to rinse away the suds. Seeing the docile look on Matthew's face, he decided it was time to bring up what he'd been dying to for weeks. "…Hey, Mattie?"

"Hm?" he answered lazily, cocking an eye open halfway.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I love you."

Matthew was jerked from the lull, stunned by the words. In matter of seconds, the shock subsided as he realized Al must've meant it in a brotherly way. "I know," he replied, a bit dejected. "I love you too."

"No, Mattie," Alfred informed him, grasping his brother's cheek and caressing it, "not like that. In a different way."

The disbelief returned as Matthew took in his words, trying to make comprehensible sense of them. "I-I don't understand…"

"Come on; don't make me spell it out for you." He smiled and leaned in from behind, gently tugging Mattie's face closer to his. In a moment, their lips were touching lightly, with Alfred moving in for the full kiss. For what felt like forever, Matthew just stared, eyes wide as he let his brother do all the work. Slowly, _very_ slowly, he began to kiss back, relaxing in the rapture that came from the sweet contact of their mouths.

Breaking the kiss, Alfred backed away for a second, much to his brother's dismay. "Understand now?"

Matthew's fingers graced him lips as he tried to form words. His gorgeous, violet eyes half-lidded, he managed to utter, "Y-You l-love me…"

"Mm-hmm."

"…I-I love you too."

"I know," Alfred replied, trying not to sound arrogant before kissing him again. This time, Matthew's eyes closed in bliss, savoring the suckling of their lips. He wanted to turn around and wrap his arms around that strong neck, but with his knack for getting injured, he might slip and soak his cast or get covered in bruises. So he settled for the contact of their mouths while his chest ballooned with elation.

God, he loved Alfred, and now he knew he was loved back. He had to admit though, it was a bit strange. Well, considering they were brothers making out in a bathtub, yes, it was strange, but that was another story. He'd been so sure that Al was straight, but now he had to be bi. Maybe gay parents really _did_ make gay children.

A hand began to slink down Matthew's narrow frame, resting on the thin fabric covering his thigh. Al pulled his lips away. "So, can we take these off now?"

With an incredulous look on his face, Mattie was about to refuse when he caught his brother's expression. He had a naïve innocence about him, surprisingly enough considering the context of his words. It was a candid question, with the sort of frankness Matthew loved about Al. Still, his prudence persisted, the voice of reason in this surreal situation.

"No." It was as simple as that.

"Oh, come _on_," Al whined, drawing out the last word as he threw his head back. Sometimes, he wished his brother could be a little more loose. It was frustrating trying to get him to do anything remotely devious. "For once, could you be naughty?"

"God," Matthew complained, rolling his eyes, "if I'd known you were this much of a dog, I'd have gotten you a collar or something."

A sly smile crept over Alfred's face as he decided to pull out his other trump card. "A collar, huh? Never knew you were so kinky. I guess I should've, though, after your little screwdriver and maple syrup excuse."

Matthew froze, his cheeks flaring in mortification as he slowly looked behind him to find the most complacent grin plastered all over his brother's face. "You- you knew?"

Unable to stifle it, Alfred burst out laughing, tears springing to his eyes. "You- ha ha! You actually thought I-I believed- ha!" Taking a few seconds to recover, he continued, "Mattie, that was the worst- absolute _worst_ excuse ever." Not that he minded. He'd thought it unbearably endearing, and it _was_ how he figured out his brother's feelings for him, after all.

"Sh-Shut up!" Matthew demanded. "Look, I've never been good at improv, but there's no reason to shove it in my face."

Al chuckled, hugging him from behind as he replied, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But really, if we're going to pull this off, you're going to have to get better at lying."

"Pull what off?"

He blinked, answering, "This relationship, of course." Wow, and people called _him_ the oblivious one.

Matthew couldn't believe his ears. "…You…really want to…?"

"Honestly, Mattie, do you love me?"

"Al, o-of course!"

"And I love you. So why wouldn't I? I mean, I know we can't go public or anything, but I want to be with you."

Alfred was giving him that childlike look again, and it was so hard not to stare into his eyes for eternity. Nodding, Mattie stated, "Okay, so…we're in a relationship now."

"Yep," Al affirmed, smiling widely while moving in again to make their first official kiss as a couple. His brother happily accepted, exchanging nips with their abused lips. He was too entranced with their movements to notice the fingers creeping up his chest. It was only when his nipple was tweaked that Matthew yelped and acknowledged the hand.

"A-Al, what are you doing?"

"Hey," Alfred argued playfully, "you never said anything about me touching your nipples, so suck it up." He pinched one while gently rubbing the other, sending a shiver down Matthew's spine. Making small circles in the buds, Al took delight in his brother's quiet mewls.

So badly did Matthew want to whack his brother over the head for doing this to him, but he just couldn't. The feeling of Al's fingers on his sensitive flesh was strangely _good_. It was difficult keeping in the little squeaks and moans, and he wasn't doing a good job of that so far. He gasped sharply as Al flicked his nipples, sending the tender nerves off in a pleasured frenzy. It was only a matter of time before his brother realized Mattie was getting hard.

The faint sound of a door slamming, along with Arthur shouting "Al, Matt, I'm home!" up the stairs interrupted their session. Alfred groaned, aggravated that, as usual, their father ruined everything. He couldn't do anything now because Mattie might get too loud. _Stupid Dad_, he thought resentfully. Unbeknownst to his brother, Matthew sighed in relief, secretly glad that their bath time had been cut short. He could get away with his "issue" this time. "Hello? You guys alive?"

"Yeah!" Al shouted, rising out of the water to dry off. No way would he want Dad to come in while they were both in the tub, for he'd surely suspect something. "I'm just giving Mattie a bath!"

"All right! Come down afterward! Looks like I'm making dinner tonight!" Now, the brothers both took their turn to groan. Arthur's food had been getting better over the years, but by small increments. He still often burned the meals, or mixed up ingredients, so they never looked forward to British dinner.

Sighing, Alfred helped his brother out of the tub and handed him the towel. "I'm sleeping in your room tonight," he declared, "so we'll pick this up later." All Matthew could do was nod and hope he could maintain his self-control.

**. . .**

They managed to survive Arthur's meal, which wasn't incredibly terrible tonight; only greatly terrible. Now, Alfred was lying in Matthew's bed, plastered to his back despite the sweltering heat. So far, his brother had thwarted his efforts to give him a hand job, but it was obvious that having Al pressed against him was affecting him.

"Mm, Mattie," Al mumbled, nuzzling his brother-lover's neck. "Would you turn off your phone? It's so bright."

"In a minute," Matthew replied, tapping away on the small keyboard. "Let me finish this text."

"Who the hell are you sending a text to this late at night?"

"Kateryna."

"Come on, you can text her in the morning. Either go to sleep or let me touch you. Your choice."

Matthew slapped the phone shut. "All right, now you can sleep."

"Okay. Night, Mattie."

"Night, Al."

**. . .**

"_Hey, Kat, you were right. Everything did turn out well. More details tomorrow. Well, if Al's okay with it. Good night! (;"_

**. . .**

**(A/N: I cannot even begin to tell you guys how much I love this chapter. Finally, after 12 chapters, they're together! I really hope you guys are excited about this as much as I am. See you next week!)**


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER XIII**

Matthew now had a fourth reason to add to the list of those for his brother sneaking into his bed: cuddling. Almost every night, Alfred came into his room and burrowed under Mattie's sheets, wanting to snuggle. Of course, he couldn't refuse his brother's need for contact, as he desired it too. There was something about falling asleep with your lover close and waking up to his face in the morning that was just so remarkable.

However, there were downsides to the constant huddling. With summer approaching, the May nights could be unbearably hot. Having Alfred next to him as he tried to drift off only increased the scorching heat, even if he stripped down to only his boxers. And God knew he wasn't going to take off more than that. Alfred was another story, a _very _awkward story, especially since he liked to mold himself to Matthew.

More times than Matt could count, he ended up making a sound when his nude lover pressed against him from behind. Al would chuckle and tease him, leaving Matt with the difficulty of explaining to his brother why he was dying for him to cut it out.

"Oh, come on, Mattie, do you really want me to stop?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"B-Because…it- it feels so _weird_…"

"Weird? Oh, you mean like _this_?" Al would drape his leg over Matthew's and slowly grind their skin together.

"Nnh," Matthew would try to stifle his moans, embarrassed by how he was reacting to the feeling of his brother's junk brushing against his thigh.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you? I know your screwdriver does."

"Sh-Shut up." It seemed like Alfred was never going to let that go.

Matthew really did like cuddling with his brother, though, even if it was discomfiting. Sometimes, it seemed like it was all that was on Al's mind. This particular day, he had just been working on homework in the living room when Al walked through the archway from the foyer.

"Hey," he said, motioning for his brother to sit with him on the floor.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Alfred asked.

"Homework. You know, the papers you stuff down the shredder the moment you get home?"

Alfred laughed and sat behind him, lacing his arms around his boyfriend's waist. He looked over his shoulder to eye the work laid out on the floor. "Need help with anything?"

"Yeah, like _you_ could help me with any of this," Matthew taunted, blushing slightly at the comforting limbs surrounding him.

"Ah, that was mean, Mattie," Al joked as rested his head on the shoulder, nuzzling his brother's neck.

"…Al?"

"Hm?" He looked to Matthew with the childlike innocence that drove him crazy.

"D-Do you _have_ to do that?"

"…You don't like it?"

Averting his eyes and shaking his head, Matthew answered, "N-No, it's just…"

"…It gets you hot?" Al finished his sentence, slinking a hand down between his brother's legs to gently stroke him through the denim.

Shuddering at the friction, Matt meekly pulled the hand away, rambling, "N-No, I mean, yes, no, sort of, just, augh! It's just…I don't know, I'm afraid that if you're always doing this, we're bound to get caught. I'm afraid you won't be able to control yourself."

"Mattie, I control myself every _day_. If I can resist jumping out of my seat in class to tackle you, I can handle this. Don't forget I'm a hero." Alfred loved reminding him or how valiant he was, since it was true after all.

"Then how come you don't control yourself at home?"

Al paused before answering, "I don't know. It's just…I see you, and I want to hug you. No one's here, so..."

Blushing, Matthew took one of his brother's hands in his and fondled it. God, why did Al have to be so unintentionally sweet? The most childish words could fill him with love if they came out of that mouth. Oh, that mouth with its amazing skill…

He snapped out of his thoughts when Alfred attempted to cop another feel. Matthew squeaked and batted the hand away with his cast. "Would you stop it?"

Pouting, Alfred whined, "Oh, come on! You let me give you a hand job yesterday!"

_Dammit, I did_, Matt thought as he bit his lower lip. His fervor had gotten the better of him, although he didn't regret it. It'd felt good…as embarrassing as it was to admit that. "Well, sorry, but I have to leave in a bit, and I don't want to be walking out of here with a hard-on!" Just saying it made him blush furiously.

"Huh? Where are you going?"

Oh, this was going to be fun to explain. Diverting his eyes from his brother, Matthew replied, "Um, I'm going to play video games with, um, Ramón."

Immediately, he felt the hands wrapped around him tense up, the fingers digging into the fabric of his t-shirt. Shutting his eyes, Matthew argued in one breath, "Yes, you don't like him, but he is my friend, and I have the right to hang out with him if I want to."

An awkward silence overtook the room until Alfred asked quietly, "…Do you have to go?" There was hurt prevalent in his voice as he buried his face into Matthew's neck.

"Yes, Al. I love you, but I still need to spend time with my friends. You too. When was the last time you hung out with Ivan or Toris or Kiku outside of school?"

Ignoring his brother's question, Alfred inquired, "…But of all the people, does it _have _to be him?"

"Look, I already told him I'd meet him today. We're just going to play the Wii at his house." He could use the Wiimote with one hand, so it didn't matter that the other was in a cast. "You know, if you'd just tell me _why_ you hate him so much, maybe I'd reconsider this."

He knew it was a lost cause before it left his mouth. Alfred didn't want to talk about it, no matter what Matthew tried to bribe him with. Hell, he bet Al wouldn't open up even if he promised sex in return, which wasn't ever going to happen…at least not yet.

"…Promise me you'll bring mace with you and keep your cell phone on at all times?" Alfred pleaded.

Matthew groaned. "Al, he's not going to-"

"Please, Mattie. I'll feel better knowing that."

"I promise I'll keep my cell phone on, but there's no way I'm carrying mace. Honestly, Al, he's not going to do anything to me. We're friends."

"…I know, I'm sorry. I just worry about you…that someone will take you away from me." Technically, Alfred had already won the competition between Ramón and him, although he hated referring to it as that. Matthew wasn't just a prize for them to argue over. In the American's mind, it had been a battle for his brother's incestuous love; in the Cuban's, it was a war that hadn't yet been won, one that had emerged only for the sake of contest. Unless Al informed him of his loss, the war would keep raging, but if he did divulge the news to his enemy, it was bound to run through the grapevine. Everything would be ruined.

It was rare to see Alfred so unguarded. Matthew clasped his lover's hand between his own, and assured him, "It's okay. I love you, and no one's gonna come between us. As they say, bros before hos." Shyly, he took two of Al's fingers in his mouth and slowly sucked on them, his violet eyes timidly returning to his brother's face.

Laughing in some sort of victory that Matthew had inadvertently referred to Ramón as a ho, Al savored the submissively seductive look on his lover's face. "Okay, you better head on out before I get a hard-on, or else neither of us is leaving the house for a while." Alfred smirked as the other removed the fingers, begging for a kiss with those cute lips. He happily complied, grazing them chastely with his own for merely seconds.

"All right, now let go," Matthew halfheartedly demanded, removing the hands around his waist. He rose from the floor to leave and said, "I'll be back in a few hours. Love you, Al."

"Love you too, Mattie."

The moment Matthew walked out the front door, he was hit with a blast of heat. The sun was really blazing today, but his clothes were light, so he figured it'd be okay. Ramón's house wasn't too far from his own, but it was outside of the neighborhood, so it would take a little while to get there.

He'd actually made it around the corner before he heard the sound of feet pounding on the sidewalk, along with the familiar shout of, "Mattie, wait!"

"Augh, what?" he complained, turning around to face his brother.

"You forgot to take the mace!"

"What the- Al, we talked about this!"

"Would you just take the mace?"

"No!"

"Take the freaking mace!"

"No, I'm not taking the freaking mace!"

"Just take it!"

"You are incorrigible, you know that?"

"Take it!"

"No!"

The neighbors watched the brothers squabble, chuckling to themselves. "Ah, it's those Bonnefoy boys again," Mr. Talbot informed Mrs. Lorry, who was toiling over her flowerbeds.

"You don't say, huh?" She wiped the sweat out from under her sunhat. "It's good that they're so full of energy, especially little Matthew, with his arm broken and whatnot."

"They've definitely got energy," Mr. Lorry laughed, sitting on the porch with his newspaper.

"I'm just glad they turned out okay," Mr. Talbot confessed, "with the living situation they're in and all."

"Now, Christopher," Mrs. Lorry scolded him, digging out the unwanted weeds, "there's nothing wrong with the way they were brought up. Arthur and Francis are great men and responsible parents, even if their partnership conflicts with your views."

"Mary, I have absolutely nothing against the two, and I'm sure they're great parents. I've just always worried they'd get harassed by kids at school because of it."

"Well, as you can see, they turned out just fine." She smiled, watching Alfred trying to forcibly stuff the bottle of pepper spray into his brother's jean pocket as Matthew ardently resisted. "Those boys have a healthy relationship."

"Heh, you don't need to tell me twice."

**. . .**

Matthew sighed as he neared his Cuban friend's home. To get Alfred to shut up and stop disrupting the neighbors, he'd grudgingly taken the mace, stuffing it deep into his pocket. He knew Al meant well and was just concerned about his safety, but he really wasn't that weak! …Okay, he was, but it wasn't like Ramón would try to take advantage of him.

Pressing the doorbell, the faint ringing sound infiltrated his ears. Soon he heard the sound of a chair sliding out and then footsteps thudding toward the door. With a click, the door opened and he saw Ramón.

"Hi," Matthew greeted him.

For a second, the Cuban stood there, a glare slowly creeping onto his face until he realized it wasn't Alfred standing at the door. He grinned, thinking of how he needed to get better at discerning the two from each other. "Hey, Matt. Come on in."

The Canadian stepped inside, following Ramón through the den. They walked into the kitchen and then turned left down the basement stairs after opening the door. "All right, what kind of game do you wanna play?" Ramón asked his friend.

"Anything is fine with me," Matthew answered. He wasn't as much of an avid player as Al was, so he wasn't sure exactly what he liked.

"Okay, let's go for a horror game then." Perhaps Matthew was the kind of guy that freaked out at scary games. Ramón liked the idea of that because he could then comfort the boy.

The Cuban wasn't sure what was going on with his feelings recently. Originally, he had tried courting Matthew just to annoy Alfred, and then to compete with him. Now, however, he actually had a desire to date the cute Canadian. He was way cuter than his obnoxious, gullible brother was, by far. There was no way he would let himself lose to Alfred. Sure, Al was closer to Matt since they were brothers, but that was also his disadvantage. Ramón's chances of getting with him were much more likely.

Picturing how Alfred would freak out if he played this game, Matthew smiled to himself. Just imagining his brother clinging to him in childish fear was enough to make him blush.

After Ramón put the disc in the console, the screen lit up at the menu and eerie music filled the room. "You can start," he told his friend as he handed him a Wiimote. Matthew nodded and clicked the "A" button to begin the game.

It was a common storyline, in which zombies had taken over the world, and there were few human survivors left. Having an overused plot didn't make it any less creepy. Matthew felt cold sweat form on his forehead as he walked through the dark corridor, his only source of light being a narrow beam from a flashlight that barely perforated the blackness.

The flashlight abruptly began to falter, flashing like a strobe light until it completely shorted out. His heart pounded in suspense as the musical score dramatically rose in volume on the black screen. _Oh God, oh God, this isn't good, _he thought in terror as the Wiimote in his right hand trembled.

A rather grotesque zombie suddenly burst out of nowhere, its shriek deafening. Matthew screamed, nearly jumping out of his skin as he chucked the videogame controller at the wall. He hid his eyes in his sleeves as the living dead devoured his character on the screen, or at least he surmised so from the sounds. When he hesitantly pulled his arms away from his face, the large "GAME OVER" was blinking.

Embarrassed, he looked to Ramón, who appeared shocked by his reaction. He then noticed the prominent dent on the wall from having thrown the controller at it. "S-Sorry about your wall…" he bashfully apologized.

"Here, let me show you how to do it," the Cuban offered, picking up the abandoned Wiimote. Restarting the game, he glanced over at Matthew to make sure he watched as he instructed him. As he walked through the same corridor, he explained, "You can't let yourself be taken by surprise in this game. When the flashlight starts going out, you have to prepare yourself and shoot the zombie the moment you see it pop up, okay?"

Ramón watched Matthew nervously bob his head up and down, the blonde waves bouncing with it. His friend really was an adorable guy, and docile nonetheless. He liked the blue-violet hue of those shy irises, wondering how they would look when instilled with pleasure.

The Cuban was too focused on Matthew to acknowledge the faltering flashlight and the rising music. When the zombie screeched, he did too, mirroring his friend in throwing the controller at the poor wall.

Matthew burst into laughter at this turn of events. "Looks like you're not any better at it than I am," he teased, sticking out his tongue playfully.

All right, so things didn't go exactly as he planned, but he did get the Canadian laugh. When his friend blushed, Ramón thought perhaps he was succeeding in wooing him.

However, Matthew was actually imagining what Alfred's reaction would be to the game, scheming to buy it and make his brother play it just to see his reaction. There was no doubt that it would be adorable and Al would cling to him for weeks afterward. In other words, it was a perfect plan, and one he had to carry out.


	14. Chapter 14

**(A/N: She Who Dances Under The Moon pointed out to me that if one considers Canada's birth the establishment of New-France in 1534, and America's birth the establishment of The Colony of Virginia in 1584, which is the oldest record of English claims in North America, then Matthew could be older than Alfred, as I made it in this story. Thanks for the history lesson! Oh, and I bumped the rating up, so expect this chapter to have some lemony content.)**

**CHAPTER XIV**

Unfortunately for Matthew, the horror game he'd played with Ramón was too much for him to afford. So he turned to the internet instead, finding the perfect replacement to scare Alfred out of his wits. Once he'd prepared the prank, he raced down the stairs, dying to see his lover's adorably freaked out reaction.

"Hey Al?" Matthew asked, peering out from behind the wall separating the den from the foyer.

"Yeah, Mattie?" Alfred was lounging on the sofa watching re-runs of _Criminal Minds_. For a moment, Matthew considered sitting down with him and cuddling a bit, but he had a mission to complete that would end the same- maybe even better.

"Wanna play a game?"

His brother stared at him, a slick grin creeping onto his face. "…What kind of game?" Already, the many possible role-play situations were running over in his head. Hey, it was a rainy day in May, and his mind needed some stimulation.

"It's not like _that_. It's a computer game called _The Maze Game_. Yong Soo sent me the link and I'm having trouble beating it. Can you help me?"

"Well," Alfred began, getting up from the couch and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, "I _am_ a hero after all."

Blushing shyly, the Canadian plucked the hands off his body and led Al upstairs to his room. Deep inside, his heart was pounding in anticipation. He hadn't played a prank on his brother for so long, and if Matt played his cards right, the end result would be more than satisfying.

Al pulled a chair up to his lover's desk and plopped down, focusing on the screen. "So how do you play?" Alfred asked, wanting to learn the rules before he started.

"Okay, so you use the mouse to control this little dark blue square and lead it through the light blue area to the exit of each level- the red area. If you hit the black boundaries, the game starts over. Each level gets more difficult. I keep losing on the third one."

"All right, let's do this."

Alfred clicked the "start" button, revealing the first level, but then it immediately returned to the menu screen. "Huh? What the hell?"

"You hit the black area."

"I did?" It'd happened so fast.

"Yeah. Your controller's really sensitive to the mouse, so even a little jerk can send it into the black."

"Augh, that sucks. Okay, let's try that again."

This time, Al paid close attention to his movements, easily making his way through the simple level and continuing on to the next. The second level had several changes in direction, but the blue passageway was still wide. He easily made his way to the exit, and the scene changed to the third level.

"Oh my god!" Alfred shouted when he saw the end of the level. The maze began as a thick tube, abruptly turning into a narrow line the width of his blue square.

"Y-Yeah, that's why I keep losing," Matthew explained, trying to contain his excitement. "Do you think you can do it?"

"Mattie," Al scoffed, confident in his gaming skills, "of course I can. Leave it to me!"

Deftly maneuvering through the labyrinth, the American focused on the screen as he transferred to the thin path. His hand carefully inched the mouse through the threadlike route, and his brother observed how his tongue stuck out on the side of his mouth in concentration. Matthew watched Alfred, the heartbeats hammering in his chest as he waited for it to come-

A disturbing photo from _The Exorcist _suddenly overtook the screen, an earsplitting screech erupting from the laptop's top-volume speakers.

Alfred screamed bloody murder, crashing his face into his lover's chest as he shouted, "OH GOD, OH GOD, OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? OH MY GOD, OH MY FUCKING GOD, MAKE IT GO AWAY, MAKE IT GO AWAY! IS IT GONE? NO, NO IT'S NOT! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, MAKE IT GO AWAY MATTIE! MATTIE, PLEASE!"

The plan had worked even better than Matthew had expected, unable to stop himself from bursting into hysterics from his brother's terrified response. He felt bad about laughing at him, but at this point, it wasn't something he had control over.

"MATTIE, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING WHEN THERE'S A DERANGED DEMONIC GIRL ON OUR COMPUTER SCREEN? WE PROBABLY ONLY HAVE SEVEN DAYS LEFT TO LIVE! OH MY GOD WE'RE GONNA DIE! OH MY GOD, AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN HAD SEX YET! QUICK, WE HAVE TO REPRODUCE SO THAT OUR BLOODLINE CONTINUES ON WITHOUT US!"

"O-O-Okay, Al?" Matthew sputtered out through his laughter, clicking the "x" button on the internet browser so that the offending image was gone. "C-Calm down. One, 'seven days' is from _The Ring_, not _The Exorcist_. Two, even if someone could give birth within seven days of getting pregnant, I'm a _guy_. And three, we're not going to die; it was a prank."

"…Mattie, that was mean…" Alfred whined, his words muffled by his boyfriend's shirt as he clung pathetically to him. "Why would you do that?"

"…You're so cute when you're scared," Matthew answered hesitantly, blushing as he made soothing circles in the other's back, "and I like comforting you."

"You couldn't wait for movie night? Or finals week when I'll be cramming like crazy?"

Matthew sighed, standing up with his lover and guiding him over to the bed. They climbed on, and Matt let Alfred cuddle closer to him. "Sorry."

"…Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you can't have my babies?"

"…It's impossible for a guy to get pregnant, Al. I'd think you'd know that by now."

"Then how'd you get pregnant in _The Sims3_?"

"You realize I had to install a special patch for the men to get pregnant, by _your_ request. It can't happen in real life, and admit it, you already knew that."

"…That's too bad," Alfred thought aloud. "I'd like to have a kid."

"We could always adopt. But Al, we're sixteen. We're not supposed to be thinking about children yet."

"Says who?"

"Says society."

"Yeah, well technically society says we're not supposed to be having an incestuous relationship, but that's not stopping us." He started slowly grinding their crotches together, both moaning slightly at the chafing.

"Al…" Matthew complained, having trouble ignoring the tingling feeling growing in his lower regions.

"Come on, Mattie. Let's have sex. Let's make a baby."

"St-Stop it." There wasn't a point in continuing to explain to his brother that men couldn't get pregnant, and his mind was too heated to have done so anyway.

"Let's make a _babyyyy_," Alfred teased, the last word drawn out to match the pace of his passionate gyrating.

"_Nnnnh._ Al, pl-please, I'm n-not ready."

"For what? Sex or a baby?"

"E-Either! J-Just stop pressuring me, will you?"

Alfred abruptly stopped his stirring, and when the other looked to him in confusion, he noticed the reminiscing hurt on his lover's face. "R-Right," Al shakily declared as he backed off, "right, that- that's bad. I don't want to pressure you."

He started to move off the bed, but Matthew gently pulled him back, bringing him into a shy kiss. The two lay on the bed for a few minutes in silence, just huddling close as they made small pecks on each other's lips. At the same time, Matthew wondered why his brother had suddenly withdrawn from his fervid antics. Alfred's emotions changed from one to another so erratically.

"Hey Mattie?"

"Hm?" Matthew lazily asked, wanting to keep kissing. Al paused in his speaking to submit to his boyfriend's wishes.

"You know how…tabloids combine…celebrity couples'…names?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"What would…ours be?"

Stopping to think, he replied, "Probably 'Matfred' since 'Althew' doesn't sound that good. Why?"

A wily smile made its way onto the other's face as he asked, "Can we name our child 'Matfred'?"

Matthew didn't bother dignifying the question with a response.

**. . .**

Arthur noticed something was up when Alfred came down the stairs tossing and catching a baseball with his leather mitt. "Going to the park?" he asked while he washed the dishes. The foul weather had finally cleared up after days of miserable rain.

"Yep," Al answered, focusing on the motion of the ball rising and falling in the air. "Mattie and I are gonna meet Kateryna there and play catch."

"Matthew's arm is broken."

"I know. Don't worry; he's not actually playing. We're really just gonna hang out and stuff with a bit of America's favorite pastime thrown in."

"You finished all your homework?"

"Yeah." Well, no, but he could always do it later. Besides, if he said otherwise, Dad was going to ramble on about how it was a weekday and he should do his homework before going anywhere.

"That's all I ask," the Brit stated, redirecting his attention back to the dishes. His mind began to wander into the subtext of son's words. They were just going to "hang out?" Perhaps one of his sons was interested in the girl and the other was simply coming along for support. He pondered which one would be the third wheel as Matthew trotted downstairs.

"I'm here," he announced, waving with his cast-wrapped arm.

"Sweet, let's go. Later, Dad."

They were out the door before Arthur could reply, and he sighed as he returned to the task at hand.

"So, what exactly is the point of this?" Matthew asked his brother as they strolled to the park. "I can't really do anything."

"We're gonna discuss stuff with Kat about our relationship."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, _you're_ the one who told her," Alfred pointed the finger.

"Look, she figured out my feelings before we got together and I knew she was going to ask me at some point, so I subtly told her. It's not like she's gonna tell anyone."

"I know that, but I still want to lay it on the line; make sure she has a full understanding, I guess."

The park came into view and they walked through the arched entrance. Arriving much earlier than Kateryna, they rested in the grass as they waited for her. "I'm bored…" Alfred whined, stretching out on the ground.

"You know Kat's house is way farther from here than ours."

"I don't like waiting…" He got up from the earth, trying to pull Matthew with him. "Come on, let's play catch."

"Are you forgetting that my arm is broken?"

"You can catch it! Here, take my mitt. I'll throw the ball to you!"

Matthew gave in, letting his brother slip the baseball mitt onto his free hand. "Just be careful with your aim and don't get distracted, okay?"

"Don't worry! I have super hand-eye coordination! Here I go- oh my god, it's the ice cream truck!"

"AUGH!"

Alfred looked to Alfred to find him crouched over on the grass, his gloved hand clutching his aching balls. "Oh my god!" Al exclaimed, running over to his ailing brother, "Mattie, I'm sorry!"

"God d-damn it, Al!" Matthew cursed, tears springing to his eyes. "I told you not to get d-distracted- _owwww_…."

"Ah, okay, um," Al sputtered, trying to form a plan, "I'm gonna go get, like, an ice cream sandwich to, uh, numb the pain. Just stay here, okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer, running off to the ice cream truck. Groaning to himself, Matthew crawled painfully over to the more wooded area of the park, leaning against a tree out of plain view. For a few minutes, he sat silently, having removed the mitt from his hand to massage himself.

"Mattie? Where'd you go?"

"I'm over here, Al!" he called back, making Alfred search for him.

"Where?"

"Here! By the tree!"

"There are tons of trees!"

"Well, find the right one."

Al nearly walked past his brother in trying to find him, the baseball in one hand, a _Chipwich_ in the other. "There you are! Why'd you move?"

"I'm not putting a _Chipwich_ to my crotch out where everyone can see me."

Alfred stared deviously at his boyfriend, inquiring, "…Who said anything like that?"

"You did! You said you were getting something to numb the pain."

"And I did. However…" Al paused to rip open the wrapper surrounding the ice cream sandwiched between two delectable chocolate chip cookies. "…What you have in mind and what I have in mind are two different things."

"What-?" Matthew began, only for his breath to catch in his throat as his lover unzipped his jeans. "A-Al, what are you-?"

"I'm still miffed about your little prank," Alfred interrupted him, opening the fly on his boyfriend's boxers while licking the frozen treat, "so this is a little payback." He collected a dollop of vanilla ice cream on his tongue, lying down with his face in front of his brother's crotch.

"A-Al you're not d-doing what I think you're-" Matthew gasped in sensual surprise as the cold tongue slicked over his length, smearing the white cream on the hardening skin. God, he'd had Al's hand on him before, but the wet member gliding on his sensitive skin was a new sensation to him; one he couldn't deny.

"Just numbing the pain," Al contentedly explained before smothering it with more ice cream. He went back to the work at hand, the freezing appendage slithering down to his lover's ball sack.

"_Aaaah_," Mattie moaned quietly, biting down on his free hand. It would be mortifying if someone found them in this intimate situation. Sure, they weren't in out in the open due to the tree coverage, but anyone could easily stumble upon them. The cornered feeling did nothing to help his now throbbing hard-on, replacing his previous pain with a fervent one.

Smirking, Alfred coated his lips with the frozen treat, giving butterfly kisses to his brother's tip. Matthew shuddered with the cold sensation, having trouble holding in his whimpers and moans. Out of his control, he gasped sharply as his lover's mouth enveloped his cock, squeaking with every sucking motion. He tore his right hand from his mouth, grasping Al's hair while he tried thrusting into those lips, desperate for release.

Just as Matthew thought he was going to reach his climax, his brother pulled off, smirking at the disappointment in the other's face. "Wh-Why are you-?"

"Sorry, but I'm not gonna let you cum," Al retorted, having difficulty zipping up his boyfriend's jeans over his erection, but succeeding nonetheless. "I think I see Kat over there, and I bet she's looking for us. You'll just have to deal with that for the rest of the day." Al got up from the ground, reaching down to pick up the baseball and mitt with his free hand.

Enraged that his lover wouldn't grant him release, Matt growled, "You- You prick!"

"Takes one to know one," the other countered, taunting his boyfriend as he licked the _Chipwich _erotically. Matthew whimpered when his cock twitched painfully in response to the torturous visual before him.

Strolling away in satisfied revenge, Al waved to Kateryna and threw her the ball. His brother grudgingly followed him, unbearably aware of his arousal grating against his zipper as he walked. Never again would he prank Alfred, especially if he'd have to endure this sexual frustration.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER XV**

May was finally ending, and it was the last week of school. However, that also meant there were finals to study for. Matthew was busy cramming for French when someone knocked at the door. Judging by how it was eleven at night, there was no doubt about who it was. "Come in," he stated, not at all surprised when his brother walked through the door.

"Mattie," Alfred addressed him, "I need help with Geometry."

After giving Al an aloof glance, Matthew returned his attention to his French textbook. "Sorry," he declined, "but you're going to have to do that by yourself."

Alfred was stunned by the rejection. "B-But you said you'd help!"

"Yeah, well, that was before you gave me blue balls," Matt explained, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

"That's what this is about? Come on, you can't still be mad about that!"

"Goodbye, Alfred. Have fun learning by yourself."

"Mattie, _please_!" Alfred whined, wrenching his brother from his chair. He pulled him into a tight hug from behind in an attempt to drag the other across the hall.

"N-No!" Matthew refused, irritated that he couldn't break free from Al's strong hold…his strong, warm hold. "It's late and you're forgetting that I have to study for finals tomorrow, too! Besides, don't you have another subject to study for?"

"I already studied for Spanish, and Geometry makes no sense to me!"

"Really now? Then how'd you pass all your other math tests this year?"

He looked away dejectedly, answering, "…I didn't. Dad's gonna flip when he sees my grades. Mattie, _please_, I have to get a good grade on this final or else I'm screwed." His arms squeezed tighter around his lover, begging him to give in.

The Canadian sighed, knowing resisting was a lost cause at this point. The fights Al and their dad had over his grades…he couldn't stand them. It wounded him just to hear them, along with the sound of Alfred stomping off to his room to cry afterward. He tried hard to get A's and B's, Matthew knew that, but his efforts never seemed to be enough.

"All right," he caved, his heart fluttering at the glowing smile on his lover's face, "but I'm not teaching you a whole semester of Geometry in one night. I have to study, too."

"Just bring your stuff into my room and we'll cram together," Alfred offered, turning his brother around to kiss him firmly on the lips. "Mattie, thank you so much. I love you."

His boyfriend blushed shyly at the words, embracing him as he mumbled, "L-Love you, too."

_God_, Alfred thought, _why is he so cute? _He leaned in again to press their mouths together, wanting desperately to make out and let it escalate into something deeper. Unfortunately for him, his lover wouldn't have any of it.

"N-No," Matthew turned him down, not without a great deal of self-control. "Study. We have to study. Now, come on." Carrying his book with his free arm, he strolled out of his room and into his brother's.

Pouting, Al followed him and sat at his desk, opening up his binder to work on some sample problems as his boyfriend spread his materials all over the floor. "…Hey, Mattie?"

"Hm?" he inquired, not bothering to look up from his textbook.

"What's a radius?"

"…You can't be serious."

"I am. This problem is telling me to find the circumference, and I have no idea what that is, and it says that it gave me the radius, and I also don't know what that is."

Matthew let out a long sigh before slapping his textbook closed. "Fine. Let me pull up a chair and I'll help you out."

"No…" his lover lamented, a lustful expression on his face, "sit on my lap."

His face flushing at the tempting offer, Matt objected, "A-Al, you need to study, and I _know_ that's not going to help you focus!"

"I can't focus as it is…" Al griped, slumping over his desk. "It's just so boring…"

Just when he was about to tell his brother to suck it up, an idea came to mind. There _was_ a way that Matthew could pleasure his boyfriend and teach him Geometry at the same time. A sly smile crept onto his face as he pondered the thought, liking that he would be in control this time. "All right," he complied, rising from the floor, "I'm gonna teach you a new approach to solving this problem."

Immediately, Alfred perked up, lifting himself from the desk. "Really?" he asked, grinning brightly as his boyfriend climbed onto his lap with his back to him.

"Mm-hmm." A newfound confidence taking over, Matthew swiveled around his brother's crotch, enjoying the satisfied groan emanating from Al's throat. "So here we have our _circle_," he explained, stressing the last word, along with his grinding.

"_Ohhh_, I'm liking this lesson so far- _ahhh_," Al informed him, enraptured by the rotation about his lower regions. "G-Go on- _oohhh_."

When it suddenly stopped and Mattie slipped off his lap, he let out a disgruntled whine, only to take it back as his lover placed his hand on the American's crotch. "_This_ is the center of the circle," he clarified, pressing down gently on the erection trapped beneath the denim.

"_Unh_," Al grunted at the contact, his impatience growing. "A-And?"

"What you're trying to find, circumference, is the distance around the circle. To find that, you need to know the radius." He finally unzipped his boyfriend's jeans, triggering a low moan as Al's arousal was released from the tight constraints. "The radius, you see," Matthew defined it as he lightly traced his finger halfway up his brother's dick, "is a line from the center to the outside of the circle."

"Uh huh," Al affirmed, savoring the lingering touch of the finger on his cock.

"The radius is half the length of the diameter." Matthew traced the length of the appendage from the base to the tip, indicating his lover's dick was the diameter. "The formula for circumference is _2πr_" - he demonstrated so with two short pumps halfway up - "or simply _πd_." This time, Mattie made one long pump up the length, causing his lover to moan.

"S-So, 'd' stands for 'd-dick'?"

"It's 'diameter', but if that helps you remember it, then sure." He brushed over the tip of Al's cock with his finger, liking the little whimper his brother emitted. "So, if the radius is 3.5 inches long, what's the diameter?"

"S-Seven inches," Al answered, grinning at the insinuation his boyfriend was making.

"Multiply that by 3.14, and what do you get? Come on, you can do it in your head." He gave his lover a quick squeeze to motivate him to use his brain.

"_Ah!_…S-Seven times three is twenty-one…Seven times fourteen equals…ninety-eight…Add that on to the twenty-one and you get 21.98."

Matthew smiled, taking his hands away and standing up. "That's all there is to it," he stated as he plodded back over to his materials on the floor. "Now apply that the ones on your paper."

"Mattie, come on!" Alfred complained, painfully watching those slender hips walk away from him.

"Let's see _you_ deal with that for the rest of the night."

"…Is this gonna be a never-ending cycle of sexual frustration between us?" Al asked, not even bothering to zip up his jeans with how unbearably aroused he was. "Come on, please…"

"A cycle is in the shape of a circle," Matthew answered nonchalantly, "so get back to work on your Geometry."

Alfred groaned, but accepted that his boyfriend had just reasons for doing this to him. Grudgingly, he went back to the problems in his binder, although he found them strangely easy once he utilized the analogy. In just a few minutes, he had breezed through the paper. "…That's amazing…Dammit, you should patent that."

"I don't think the government would approve it."

"Yeah, well, I'd make them approve it 'cause I'm a hero. They wouldn't be able to deny my request."

Chuckling to himself, Matthew thought of how he knew that all too well. He yawned, realizing it was rather late now. Well, he'd studied enough for the night. "I'm going to bed now," the Canadian murmured, picking up his book and trudging toward the door.

"Good night."

"…Al?"

"What?"

"Put your diameter back in your pants."

Alfred laughed, trying to keep his voice down as he obliged. No way would he want their parents coming up here at this time of night. "You know, you're the reason I'm going to have a boner when I take my final tomorrow. …But really, Mattie," Al spoke calmly, a loving smile on his lips, "thank you."

Sometimes, there was no way to resist the way Alfred made his heart pound with simple words. Matthew walked over and bashfully kissed his lover on the forehead. "…Don't stay up too late. You'll get sick."

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you, too."

**. . .**

Matthew sighed, wondering how the day he'd gotten his cast removed could've gone downhill so fast.

The sound of voices yelling infiltrated every room of the house. God, the mere volume of their shouting match was enough to make him want to cry as he hugged Kumajirou tighter to his chest. Matthew assumed their report cards must have arrived and Dad wasn't happy with the other's grades, since that was the only thing they seriously fought over. His brother had been dreading this day ever since they'd graduated from sophomores last month. If only the damn school hadn't waited until June to send out the reports so that they could've been over this by now.

He realized the racket was growing louder, and as usual, Alfred was stomping up the stairs, refusing to respond at this point. With a slam of his bedroom door, the argument officially ended. It killed Matthew to just sit in his room as Al was likely crying, but he always gave his brother a few minutes to cool off before going in to comfort him.

Finally, he decided to step off his bed and leave the security of his room, his stuffed polar bear in hand. After tiptoeing across the narrow hall over to Al's room, he knocked gently on the door. "Al, it's me."

"C-Come in…"

Matthew opened the door, his heart breaking when he saw his lover huddled up on the bed. Trying to hide the tears still gliding down his cheeks, Al covered his face with his arm, although nothing could conceal the quivering of his body. "H-Hi."

"Hey," Matt said, closing the door behind him. Laying Kumajirou on top of the blanket, he climbed onto the bed to hold and console his lover. Sniffling, Alfred rested his head on the other's chest, having trouble forming words.

"I-I tr-tried, Mattie…I really d-d-did…"

"_Shhh_," Matthew tried to soothe him, "I know you did. You did well."

"I g-got a 'D' in G-Geometry… "

"It's a difficult subject for you. I know that. Dad just doesn't realize how much you try. Come on, turn over and let me give you a massage."

Alfred nodded, resting on his stomach as his boyfriend straddled his back. Gentle hands worked at the tense muscles, and the American smiled through his fading tears. Matthew was the only one who knew how to give an effective, yet painless massage. "_Mmm_, you're good w-with your hands," Al murmured pleasantly.

"You love making innuendos, don't you?" Matt asked, glad that he could finally use both arms again to give Alfred a genuine rub down.

"I also love turning you on," his brother teased, shifting his torso beneath Matthew's legs. A soft moan escaped his lips, and he blushed, unable to voice what he wanted. Timidly, Matthew rubbed his crotch against Al's back, looking to his boyfriend with amorous violet eyes.

Never did his lover have to use words for Alfred to comply. Smiling deviously, he lightly pushed Matthew off his back and cornered him against the backboard of his bed. The Canadian innocently spread his legs, and with anyone else, that thought wouldn't make any sense. But this was Matthew: pure, adorable, and innocent Matthew.

Alfred crawled forward, slinking his left hand up his brother's shirt as their lips met. "_Ahhhhn_," Mattie mewled into the other's mouth as his nipples were played with. His legs kept moving around on the sheets, trying to relieve the discomfort arisen from the erection prodding out under his skinny jeans. He still never ceased to wonder how Al was so good at getting him hot.

His other hand reached down to palm his brother through the taut denim, and Alfred took delight in his hushed sounds, muted by the contact of their lips. The way they mixed with the constant rustling of the sheets, along with their hastened breathing…it was impossible to focus on any other noise but theirs.

"Alfred, I'm sor-"

The two froze in their places as the British voice trailed off. Their father had come upstairs, opened the door, and walked inside, all without them noticing. In horror, Matthew realized his brother's hand was still up his shirt, the other on his crotch.

They were caught, and nothing could be done to salvage the situation.


	16. Chapter 16

**(A/N: -Edit- I don't believe this. First, took away my right to use asterisks. I accepted that and I now use periods instead. Now, they are intervening with my writing style even more by taking away my right to use multiple exclamation points next to each other or a question mark and an exclamation point next to each other. I'm just wondering: is anyone else having this problem? For all I know, it could be the word processor I'm using.)**

**CHAPTER XVI**

For what felt like hours, no one moved or talked. The brothers simply stared at their father, horrified, and vice versa. Matthew noticed how the corners of their dad's mouth twitched upward, as if he were trying to speak, but simply could not.

"Fr-Fr-Fr-" Arthur sputtered, his mind trying to block out the sight before him, to find some reasonable explanation as to why one of his sons was touching the other inappropriately. He refused to believe the possibility of the "i-word", so he settled on the only other rationalization. "Fr-Fr-FRANCIS!"

Flinching at the rage in that voice, Matt watched as his dad wrenched Al away from him, demanding, "Off. Get off of him, _now_!" The infuriated Brit dragged his son out of the room by the wrist, ignoring Alfred's struggling.

"Dad, wait!" Matthew called, jumping off his bed.

Francis emerged from the kitchen and saw his husband trudging down the stairs with Alfred in tow. "_Mon amour_, what is wrong? I thought you were going to apologize-"

"I just found _your_ son molesting Matthew!" Arthur roared, speed walking right past his spouse.

"_What_?" Alfred shouted, incredulous.

"Dad, he wasn't molesting me!" Matthew denied, following them into the kitchen.

"Matthew, I know what I saw! You do not need to defend your brother-"

"I'm not defending my brother; I'm defending my _boyfriend_!"

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach as his mind processed the meaning of the words. He looked abhorrently to his son, who appeared ready to burst into tears at any second.

"…_Mathieu_," Francis addressed him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "is that true?"

Hiding his face in his palms, the boy nodded and promptly began to cry. Alfred gazed at his lover in distress, dying to pull him close and run his fingers through those blonde waves, but his father wouldn't let go of his arm. "Dad…"

"Sit." Arthur commanded, forcing his son into a chair at the table. Understanding what his spouse was thinking, the Frenchman brought Matthew over to sit opposite his brother. He took a seat next to Arthur, who fretfully clutched his messed mop of hair.

They stayed there in silence, aside from the quiet sounds of Matthew's weeping. Alfred glared at the tabletop, tormented that for possibly the first time, the situation was out of his control. He couldn't be the hero and promise that everything would be okay because he didn't know if it would be.

Knowing the talk needed to begin, Francis sighed, deciding he would initiate the conversation as his husband seemed unstable. "…How long has this been going on?"

"Beginning of May," Al mumbled, refusing to look up at the man.

"…Have you had sex?" Francis inquired, noticing how Arthur tensed up at the question.

"…No," Al answered, gripping the knees of his jeans. How much he wished he could say "yes" just to make their blood boil and to see their horror-stricken faces, but he just couldn't.

"Have you done anything pertaining to sex?"

When the American didn't reply and Matthew's face reddened even more as he sniffled, Arthur abruptly stood up from his seat. "I- I cannot handle this," he dismissed it, walking off to the living room. "I absolutely _cannot_ handle this."

The Frenchman watched the distraught man leave, acknowledging that he would have to manage this situation alone. Taking a deep breath as he wrapped his fingers together, he finally stated, "…You realize that we can't condone this."

"Oh, come on!" Alfred shouted, jumping up from his chair. He was enraged that their parents would try to come between them, and by God, he wasn't about to take it sitting down. "You're a fucking hypocrite! I bet your parents said the same thing when you decided to go off with Dad!"

"A-Al…" Matthew whined, wanting to disappear into his seat.

"_I_ wasn't dating with my brother," Francis argued, keeping his tone firm.

"We're not even related!"

"We adopted you, so you're brothers; not by blood, but by the law."

"And _you're_ only our _parents_ by the law! You act like you're husband and wife, but you're not even married! We live in fucking South Carolina! With all the crap you guys have to deal with for being a gay couple, I thought you'd understand where we're coming from!"

"Alfred, you have to understand where _we're _coming from," Francis reasoned, clearly concerned. "You two are our budding boys, and frankly, this is traumatizing for us. Incest isn't acceptable to us, and it's not acceptable to anyone else."

"Yeah, well at one time, being gay wasn't acceptable to anyone either! You always say that love comes in all shapes and sizes and that people need to accept that! You think you're some great master of love, but if something's too 'unconventional' for you-"

"Alfred, you can insult me and my perspective on love to your heart's desire, but you're not dating your brother, and that is final."

After seconds of silence, the American shut his mouth and backed down, sulking into his chair. Matthew witnessed this in horror, his brother surrendering before his own eyes.

All hope had been lost.

**. . .**

Matthew lay forlornly in bed with Kumajirou in his limp arms, waiting for his papa to return. Their parents had decided that Francis would watch over the Canadian in his room, while Alfred would sleep in the master bedroom with Arthur. It was an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible, and at the moment, it was working. Sobbing softly into his pillow, Matt thought of what it would be like to have their hearts connected by a single string. With a simple tug, Alfred would appear, and everything would be fine again. But that was a fantasy for only the most foolish of dreamers: he'd lost all faith that everything would be fine again as a feeling of emptiness overtook him.

When his cell phone vibrated on the side table, Matthew's bleary eyes shot right open, recognizing the caller ID. Immediately, he placed his polar bear aside and swiped the phone, flicking it open. "A-Alfred…"

"Mattie…" Al whispered, sensing the remnants of crying in his lover's voice, "Mattie, I'm here."

"H-How?"

"They let me go to my room to get clothes and stuff, so I hid my phone in the stack. Listen to me, Mattie; we can't let them do this."

His chest swelled with a sad bliss at the words, and he replied, "You didn't g-give up."

"Hell, no. You really think I'd let this happen? I'm a hero."

"Th-That's right," Matthew agreed, wiping away the last of his tears. "You are."

"I've got a plan in mind, but I obviously can't do this by myself. Basically, we have to shove our incest-ness in their faces."

"…Al, how is that going to help at all?"

"If we drive them to the brink of insanity with our rebellion, they'll get so sick of dealing with it that they'll let us be. It's ingenious."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"We could make out right in front of them, or, in tonight's case, we could jerk-off and loudly moan each other's names while doing it. Believe me, that's something I'd love to see you do."

Blushing at the thought, Matthew violently shook his head back in forth. "I-I can't do that, Al, e-especially not in front- in front of _Papa_."

"Fine, but just promise me you'll go along with this, okay? I won't make you do anything _too_ outrageous."

"Knowing you, that'd be anything short of sex."

"Ah, you know me too well. But come on, this is our best shot."

Matthew sighed, tousling his blonde locks. "…All right. I'll do it."

"Good, because we've got a war on our hands. …Hey, Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

Although his lover couldn't see, Alfred put on his best slick grin and practically purred, "…What are you wearing?"

"…Boxers," Mattie murmured, his cheeks flushing even more as he looked down at himself. "Why?"

"I'm not wearing anything. You hard yet?"

"…Shut up."

"Heh, you're _harrrrd_."

"…Are we having phone sex?"

"I guess. Do you want to?"

"Well, if we're going through with this brilliant plan of yours, I don't see why not."

Alfred smirked to himself, loving how much fun he was going to have with this. "All right. Put your phone on speaker. I think it's time I take that rock-hard cock out of your boxers and stroke it."

After pressing the "speaker" button, the Canadian stared uneasily at the erection poking out from the thin fabric. Having never masturbated before, Matthew awkwardly opened his fly and pulled out his dick, fondling it lightly. It was strange to have his own hand on his erection, but he pushed the thought away and closed his eyes, picturing Alfred caressing him instead. The fantasy quickly took over and he softly moaned into the cell phone.

It really sucked that Al couldn't see his brother touching himself, the restriction to mere sounds and imagination only arousing him further. Alfred found himself pumping his own erection as he savored the lustful sounds emanating from his phone. "I'm…_unh_…gonna squeeze your h-head now."

Nodding, Mattie obliged, mewling at the pressure on his pleasured nerves. He brushed his finger over the top and pressed down on his slit. "_Ahhhhhn_, _aahhh_, A-Alfred…"

"_Ohhhh_," Alfred groaned, severely turned on by the sound of his name on the other's wanton lips. "D-Dammit, Mattie…_nngh_…why are you so…so- _oohhh_… O-Okay, I'm gonna sl-slip a finger in-"

"Alfred, get off the phone."

Al turned his attention to the door where his dad was standing, the Brit's face red in a mixture of mortification and anger. "H-Hey, Dad. What's up?"

"Get off the phone, _now_!"

Matthew heard the dreaded click that ended the call, assuming their father must have grabbed the phone. He whimpered to himself in dissatisfaction, his arousal throbbing. What was he supposed to do now?

The bathroom door abruptly opened, and Mattie shuffled under the sheets, pulling Kumajirou close again. Francis walked into the room carrying a sleeping bag and a pillow. "Sorry I took so long," he apologized, laying his supplies on the floor. "I had trouble finding this old thing in that mess of a linen closet. We haven't used them in a while, so it was lost between all the sheets and blankets."

"Mm-hmm," Matt mumbled, hoping his father would just get to sleep so he could get release, although resentment was starting to replace the desire.

"…Is something wrong?" the Frenchman inquired, sensing the anxious aura his son was giving off.

"What do you _think_?" he spat, surprised at how bitter his tone was.

"_Mathieu_, I know you're mad, but this is-"

"For my own good? _Non_, Papa, it's not. You don't know what's for my own good. You just _don't_."

"I just want you to be happy."

"Well, you know what? I'm very happy with Alfred. I'm _not_ happy that you guys had to come in and ruin everything." His words seared into his father with a caustic tongue, but the only burns Matthew felt were the ones forming in his eyes.

"_Mathieu_-"

"You're the one who always told me not to question love, but embrace it; every little aspect of it. You said not to chase after love, but to wait for it to come to me. Well, I did, and it may not have come in the most orthodox form, but it did. A-And I accepted it and ran with it, and for God's sake, Papa, why can't you understand?" Water began to trickle out of his violet eyes, and the boy wondered just how many times he had cried that day.

The Frenchman grappled with himself, thinking of how his son was more like him when it came to arguments. Arthur and Alfred were incredibly hotheaded when they got into an argument, but Matthew spoke quietly and calmly, choosing his words carefully. This was always more effective, but even he had his breaking point, when he had to yell to get his point across.

As if on cue, the sound of a fight from downstairs reverberated off the walls. "You will _not_ wank in our bed," Arthur roared, "and you certainly will not shout your brother's name while doing so!"

"Oh, please," Alfred retorted, "with all the sex that goes on in this bed, my jizz will hardly make a contribution!"

Closing the door to drown out the noise, Francis glanced toward his son, who had his back to him. "…You really feel passionate about this, huh?"

Matthew slowly turned around to face his father, and with a calm determination engulfing him, he quoted, "'I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three.'"

"And who said that?"

"William Blake. English, just like your beloved 'husband'."

Pondering the thought, Francis slipped into the sleeping bag, his blonde locks fanned out on the pillow. "…Good night, Mathieu."

"Good night, Papa," Matthew mumbled, hugging Kumajirou tighter to his chest.

He wished it were Alfred instead.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER XVII**

Matthew stepped out of bed, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he felt around for his glasses and slipped them on. The sound of muffled voices had piqued his curiosity, and he trudged to the door, just slightly budging it open. He realized the conversation was coming from the kitchen and tiptoed to top of the stairs to listen in.

"Francis, can't you take any time off?"

"You know as well as I do that during the summer, the restaurant is open every day due to the demand. As the owner and the head chef, I can't simply 'take time off'."

"But I have to work too, and while I'll be home some days, I can't be here all the time. And we can't just leave them here by themselves."

As the Canadian eavesdropped, the events of the previous day played over in his mind: the cast removal, the report cards, the comforting, the foreplay, the moment they were caught, and everything after that.

"Perhaps we send them off to separate neighbors on days when we are both working?" Arthur suggested, wracking his brain for any possible solution.

"Wouldn't we just be pushing the problem off onto someone else then? Won't the neighbors get suspicious?"

"Well, we'll have the kids work for them. They could mow the lawn or help with the garden; things like that. That would seem normal to anyone, correct? If people ask why they're not working together, we can just say they had a fight and are currently not talking to each other."

"_Mon amour_, I'm not sure about this."

"Look, we _have_ to separate them. I am sure that they won't try anything in public because they could easily be caught, but if we leave them alone in the house, who knows what will happen?"

There was a pause, and Arthur's voice followed at a softer volume, "Francis, tell me what's bothering you." Matthew leaned forward, trying to hear the conversation better now that they had lowered their voices.

"…It's just-"

Matt shrieked loudly as he almost slipped down the staircase from leaning too far, gripping the railing for dear life.

"What the- Matthew is that you?" Arthur called from the kitchen; his son could already tell that he was peeved at him for eavesdropping.

"_O-Oui_," Matt answered, slowly releasing his hold on the banister.

"Do not speak French to me. I get enough of that putrid language from your father."

"Don't even get him started on how I used to call him '_mon petit lapin_'."

"For God's sake, I have never been a 'little rabbit' at any point in my life!"

The Frenchman burst into laughter, shouting, "Oh, really? Have you forgotten that you wore that _Playboy_ bunny costume on the first Halloween of our relationship?"

"W-We are not discussing this now!"

"All right," Francis conceded, "back to the serious discussion then. _Mathieu_, you can come on down."

Although they couldn't see him, the boy shook his head and replied, "I'm not wearing pants."

"_Mm_, my favorite thing to hear in the morning," Alfred cut in, and his brother assumed he must have just emerged from their parents' room.

"Matthew, I'm sure that whatever you are wearing is decent enough," the Brit told him. "At least you don't sleep in nude."

"Hey, I've got clothes on _now_," Al argued, scraping a chair across the tile.

Reluctant, Matthew made his way down the stairs and turned into the kitchen. There he found the rest of his family eating, the meal spread out on the square table. The Canadian awkwardly padded toward them to serve himself breakfast, self-conscious that he was only wearing boxers. As Mattie leaned over to reach the pancakes, Alfred practically purred, "Smack dat maple leaf," giving his lover a quick slap on his fine ass.

The boy squeaked at the contact, stopping dead in his tracks with his face flushed as the hand lingered on his backside. "Hey!" Arthur objected, glaring at his confidently smirking son. Instead of backing down, the American let his hand wander between the enticing legs, possessively grasping his brother's crotch as Matthew mewled.

"Alfred!" their father roared, jumping up from his seat to separate them. Remembering the plan from the night before, Mattie squeezed his thighs together so that their father couldn't pull Al's hand away.

"What the-? Matthew, let go!"

"N-No, Dad- _ahhhhn_…" his son refused as Alfred continued to palm him in plain view of their parents. Matthew bent forward to rest his hands on the tabletop for support, enduring the humiliation. Reminding himself that this was what had to be done, he moaned louder when his lover squeezed his junk through the thin fabric.

"Matthew, spread your legs!"

"I don't w-want to- _ohhhh_…A-Alfred…"

After several thwarted efforts, the irate Brit managed to spread his son's legs against his will. He wrenched them apart and forced Matthew into a chair across from his brother. Panting hard from all of his exertion, he glowered at his spouse and inquired, "Francis, why didn't you help me?"

"I thought you had everything under control," the Frenchman answered honestly, causing Alfred to double over in laughter.

Arthur rubbed his temples in irritation, declaring, "See, this is _exactly_ why we have to do this!"

The lighthearted feeling fading, Al scrunched his brow and asked, "Do what?"

Francis sighed as his husband took a seat next to him, neither of them wanting to bring it up. "Do what?" the American repeated. "Guys, will someone tell me what's going on?"

"They're thinking of shipping us off to different neighbors when they're both at work," Matthew explained for his brother, remembering the conversation he had overheard earlier.

Grimacing, Al poked at the food on his plate. Damn, if their parents did that, it could ruin their whole plan. He knew it would be difficult to get near each other while the folks were home, but he'd expected to make up for any dashed efforts on the days he would be alone with Matthew. However, with the neighbor switch-off tactic, the time they could have spent strategizing or just loving each other had been lost.

"I was thinking that we could send _Mathieu_ over to Mary to help her with the garden," Francis suggested. "Alfred could mow Christopher's lawn and trim the hedges, or something. Would you like me to call them and ask if that's okay?"

"Go ahead," Arthur consented, taking a sip from his neglected tea. As the Frenchman dialed Mrs. Lorry's number, Alfred gave his dad a look of contempt.

"I just want to say that was a clever maneuver you pulled over our heads."

"Alfred, you may not understand it now, but this is for the better. And do not talk as if our household is at war."

"All right, how about as if we're playing chess?"

"You want to compare this to a game of chess? Fine." The Brit let his teacup clatter against the saucer, in a _very_ gentlemanly way, mind you, and focused his glaring green eyes on his son. "Your king is the relationship you have with your brother. Your father and I take the place of the queen. The final piece is the rook, which is where the neighbors come in. I know that you would not dare jeopardize your 'king' by flaunting it openly in front of the 'rook'. The 'queen' already has your 'king' cornered, and when the 'rook' comes in for the final move, your 'king' will not be able to do anything, and it is checkmate. You cannot win."

Alfred's serious expression slowly turned into that familiar smirk, the one he got when the light bulb turned on in his head. _Time for some American magic_, he thought, chuckling to himself. Hopefully, Mattie wouldn't kill him for this. "Yeah, well you know what I do in a game of chess when I've been checkmated?"

"What, pray tell?"

"I knock my opponent's pieces down and flip the chessboard off the table, declaring victory against all odds."

"That's cheating."

"Then I guess _this_ is cheating, too." Before his father could inquire as to what he meant, Alfred darted under the table. Matthew yelped suddenly, his cock engulfed in the warmth of his lover's mouth, fabric and all.

"A-_Ahhhhh_!" the Canadian moaned as Al purred, the vibrations instilling his quivering member with pleasure. As Arthur moved to pull them apart, Matthew bent over and gripped the back of his brother's shirt, effectively lodging the two together like a three-dimensional puzzle piece.

"Matthew, you let go this instant!"

"N-No- _ohhhh_!"

"Francis, for God's sake, help me!"

"_Mon amour_, I am on the phone. Please quiet down."

When it became clear that it was unlikely for that to happen, the Frenchman took the cordless phone with him into the master bedroom. "Sorry about all the noise, Mary."

"That's quite all right," Mrs. Lorry replied. "I heard yelling. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, well, Alfred and Matthew are fighting, unfortunately."

"You're kidding me. Them?"

"Believe me, I'm surprised, too. Arthur and I think some time apart might be good for them. That's part of why we're asking if you could have _Mathieu_ over when Arthur and I have to work. He could help you out in the garden, and you know what good company he is."

"Francis, you know I'd love to have that boy anytime you need. I'm sorry to hear about the fight, though."

"Thank you. All right, I have to call up Christopher and ask if he'd mind having Alfred over at his place. Bye, Mary. Have a great day."

"You too, Francis. Bye, now."

After ending the call, the Frenchman then dialed Mr. Talbot's number and asked him the same favor. Of course, the man agreed to it and expressed his condolences. Once off the phone, Francis sighed to himself, disliking how he had to lie to their neighbors. However, it had to be done for the boys' sakes.

When he emerged from the room, the scene in the kitchen had evolved into complete chaos, with Arthur attempting to pull his son's mouth from the other's crotch.

"D-Dad, be careful! Th-Those are my vital regions!"

"I would not _have_ to be careful if your brother would be kind enough to stop sucking you off!"

Alfred's likely smart remark was muffled due to his mouthful of Canadian cock, causing Matthew to cry out in ecstasy. "_Mon dieu_," Francis muttered as he walked over to his spouse to help separate the boys.

**. . .**

"Your irises are beautiful, Mrs. Lorry," Matthew declared, enraptured by the brilliant violet hue of the intricate petals. He'd been helping with the garden for more than a week now, but the irises never ceased to amaze him.

"Why, thank you, Matthew," she replied from the porch, where she was tending to her hanging plants. "Although, I hope you're talking about the flowers, and not my eyes."

Matt laughed affably, carefully watering the lovely flowers. "But really, I can't get past how beautiful these are."

"Would you like to hear the story about the iris?"

"Please, I'd enjoy that."

Mrs. Lorry smiled, adjusting her sunhat as she rested at the top of the porch stairs, patting the spot next to her. Understanding her gesture, Matthew climbed up the steps and sat down next to her. With their eyes focused on the blooming purple, the woman began, "The word 'iris' is actually Greek for 'rainbow', and the flower was named that because of all the different colored types of irises there are. There's also some mythology behind this flower."

"Oh, I love Greek mythology."

"I thought you would. You see, Iris was a messenger for the Greek gods of Olympus, so many think of the flower as a warning."

"A warning for what?"

"I suppose the warning is different for each person. It's all superstition, but to ignore an iris is to ignore that warning. Perhaps it is more of a reminder to always be aware of your surroundings."

"That's really interesting," Matthew stated, gazing at the flowers as he gave the idea more thought.

"Hm, something's got you thinking. So what about it: have you been ignoring an iris in your life?"

At this, Matt glanced farther down the opposite side of the street to his brother, who was working hard at mowing Mr. Talbot's lawn. He could see the sweat trickling down that determined face in the four o' clock sun, soaking the purple men's tank. Al was like an iris: always warning him to stay away from Ramón, but never clarifying his reasons. "…I think so."

"Well, let me tell you something," she informed him, catching his gaze as she twirled a graying lock of hair, "If I were you, I'd listen to that iris. Chances are he knows a lot more than you do."

"Yeah, well, maybe that iris hasn't given me a reason _why_ I should listen to his warning." His tone came out slightly bitter, and Matt immediately resented it. He hadn't been able to get anywhere near his lover for a while now, thanks to their parents' persistence. Still, what gave Alfred the right to question who his friends were, especially without providing an explanation?

"Life's not that easy, Matthew. People aren't always going to hand you everything. They'll skim over something as lightly as possible without going into the details and expect you to either listen or figure it out on your own."

"But he won't even skim," Matt complained, thinking of all the times his brother had argued with him about this. "He won't tell me _anything_. No matter what I surmise on my own, I'm always wrong. But if I ask for details, he'll just brush it off and say he's trying to protect me."

"Well, have you ever stopped to think that maybe it would hurt him to explain his reasoning, and that's why he won't?"

Mr. Talbot suddenly came out and talked with Al, seemingly granting him the rest of the day off. The American shook his neighbor's hand and waved goodbye, sprinting toward his home on the corner lot.

"…If that's true, then I wish he felt like he could talk to me about it," Matthew admitted, gazing sadly at his brother.

As Alfred passed by Mrs. Lorry's house from across the street, he stared straight ahead. Although he wanted to run up and hug his lover to death, their parents had told the neighbors they were having a fight. People would get suspicious if they had suddenly made up with no notice at all. So he kept walking, as much as it burned his heart to pass Matthew without a glance.

"You know," Mrs. Lorry spoke as they watched the boy stroll home, "the iris also represents the silent heartache of lost love, for Iris brought many a young woman to the other side."

Matthew looked to the woman's aged face, years of knowledge evident in her wrinkles. She continued, "It's sad to see you two apart like this. I don't know what this fight was all about, but you need to make up. You both want to, but neither of you will admit that you were wrong. Believe me; your faces give everything away, so just give it up."

"…Mrs. Lorry…"

"I think you've done enough work today," she declared, standing up again. "Go make things right with your brother."

His violet eyes wide, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Don't worry; I'll take the flack if your dad gets mad. In my opinion, you and Al need to work things out, and that's not going to happen if you're apart."

Smiling brightly, Matthew pulled her into a hug. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem at all. Now, go."

The Canadian nodded and ran off toward the house, eager to be in the comforting arms of his lover again. Alfred was resting on the sofa when Matthew burst through the door and ran over, all but flying onto the couch. "Wh-What- Mattie? What-?"

"Hold me," he demanded, burrowing into his boyfriend's drenched tank top, the familiar scent of sweat soothing. "G-God, I haven't been able to hug you i-in so long."

Alfred smiled fondly, wrapping his arms around his brother. "I know, right? God, I've missed this. Dad's a lot more determined than I thought. Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be at Mrs. Lorry's?"

"She sent me home early, saying we should make up."

"Heh, Dad's plan backfired there." Al nuzzled the top of his lover's head, liking how the blonde strands brushed against his face. "_Mm_, I love you so much."

"I love you, too. …Al?"

"Yeah?"

"You know, you can always tell me anything, right?" Matthew asked, lifting his head up from the other's chest as he played with the short blonde strands of Al's hair.

Blinking in confusion, his brother inquired, "Mattie, what's this about?"

"…It's about Ramón-"

"No," Alfred immediately shot him down, averting his blue eyes.

"Al-"

"I don't want to talk about him. Not now, not ever."

The concern prevalent in his tone, the Canadian pressed, "…Does it hurt you to talk about him?"

His brother flinched at the words, a pained expression on his face. "Mattie, _pl-please_," he implored, his voice cracking, "we…we have less than an hour until Dad gets home. I don't want to talk about that bastard. I just want to lie here with you and forget that the rest of the world even exists."

Matthew sighed, resting his head on Al's chest again, the pulsating of his brother's heart strangely calming. He didn't want to force his brother to talk, and he was right: they didn't have much time until their father returned. For now, he would have to accept that Al wouldn't open up yet as the simple heartbeat thrummed beneath his ears.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER XVIII**

Arthur sighed as he climbed into his car, taking a few minutes to just rest against the driver's seat. Working at the tailor shop took his mind off of things, but at the end of the day, he still had to go back home to face the fact that his sons were having an incestuous relationship. Letting out a sad chuckle as he thought of how he wasn't a simple teenager anymore, one who would just run away from a problem if he could, the Brit put the key in ignition and drove off.

The streets were moving too fast for his liking, and before he knew it, the car's wheels were rounding the corner of the neighborhood. As the vehicle approached Mrs. Lorry's home, Arthur noticed that the woman was sitting in her rocking chair on the porch with Matthew nowhere in sight. He parked on the curb and emerged, making his way toward her.

"Good afternoon, Arthur," she greeted him, a novel in her hands.

"Hello, Mary. Where is Matthew?"

"Oh, actually, we finished work early, so I sent him home."

"O-Oh," Arthur stuttered, a deep dread sinking into his stomach. "I-Is Alfred also there?"

"Yes, Christopher sent him back, too, about an hour ago."

"…Mary, you _do_ realize that the two of them are having a fight, correct? That was the main reason why we had this arrangement made."

"I know that quite well," Mrs. Lorry answered, glancing back down to the text. "Now, I know that I'm not their parent, but I have been a parent, and it was time that they sorted out the issue."

"Mary-"

"Those kids really wear their hearts on their sleeves," she informed him as she turned a page in the book. "Matthew may be quiet, but his face is very expressive, especially when he is hurting. Alfred is different: he takes that sadness and covers it with anger or fuels it into his work. …In fact, he's almost like you in that regard."

The words stung the man with how close they hit to home, and he couldn't even speak to make his counterargument. Seeing as Arthur wasn't going to cut in, she continued, "My point is, it was incredibly obvious how much the fight was affecting them. The separation may have helped for the cooling period, but at this point, it's only keeping the wound from healing." Mrs. Lorry gazed up at him, a knowledgeable, melancholic look in her eyes. "It's sad to see them apart. They're the closest brothers I've ever seen, and they're lost without each other."

"…I-I understand your opinion," the Brit admitted, feeling the lump in his throat. "…Um, if he is not here, th-then I guess I should, er, make my leave now. Good day, Mary." Arthur left it at that as he returned to his car, too tired to quarrel with her. The drive to his house was short and he pulled into the garage, fuming as everything built up inside of him.

He didn't need her to act like she knew the situation when she truly didn't. He didn't need her to tell him what his kids were like. He didn't need her to explain how he and Francis were doing a terrible job of parenting. He didn't need her to inflict his heart with so many verbal cuts. He didn't- he didn't…

…He didn't need his sons to be napping peacefully on the couch together.

Strangely enough, Arthur felt a calm wash over him when he walked into the living room. Instead of his rage augmenting, instead of wanting to wrench them apart, he moved closer and observed the sleeping couple. Matthew was lying on top of his brother, arms around him tight as he rested his head on the other's rising and falling chest.

As it dawned on him how the situation was taking a toll on all of them, the Brit just stared at the two morosely, wishing none of this had happened. Perhaps separating them hadn't been the best idea to arise from his brain, but what was he supposed to do, just let them be?

A voice in the back of his head asked him if that would be so wrong, to accept life as it had become for his sons. Mrs. Lorry's words revolved around in his head, and the mixture of anger and helplessness returned full force. Unable to handle the stress of his mere thoughts, Arthur reverted to his teenage years and stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Huh?" Matt muttered, stirred by the crash reverberating through the air.

"…Wh-What was that?" Al mumbled groggily, moving a hand to his eyes to rub them awake.

"A…a door slamming?"

"Wait; what time is it? Did Dad just come home?" Alfred scrambled out from under Matthew, who whined as the comforting warmth of his brother's body was stolen away. Walking into the kitchen, the boy noticed his father's shoes on the tile and how the door to the master bedroom was closed. "Yeah, Dad must be home."

"D-Do you think he saw us?" Mattie asked, concern seeping into his voice.

"Probably. He must've found out the neighbors let us come home early. I bet he's pretty pissed."

"But he didn't even bother to separate us…Are you telling me the plan is actually working?"

Realizing the whole ordeal may have been too much for their father, Alfred grasped his lover's hand. "…Change of strategy: we're going soft-core."

"Eh?"

"Soft-core. You know, just hand-holding and hugging and maybe some kissing. Look, let's go check on Dad."

"Al, I think he wants to be alone…" Matthew tried to change the other's mind.

"Come on, even though we're in a relationship, he's still our dad. He's gotta be pretty upset if he saw us and just ran off. Now, let's go."

A firm hold on his brother's wrist, Al towed him to their father's door and knocked. "Dad?"

"Alfred, g-go away," Arthur groused, hating how he sounded like a child.

"See?" Matt reasoned, looking to his lover warily.

"We're coming in anyway," Alfred answered nonchalantly as he dragged his brother in with him. Their father was huddling under the blankets, groaning as the two came closer. "Dad?"

"Wh-What do you want?" the man griped, his words muffled and shaky.

"Would you come out from under there and look at us?"

"Alfred, I do not wish to see a-anything right now. Not if it's more of the lewd hell you have been giving me all week."

Feeling guilty, Matthew tugged on his brother's arm to leave, but the American wasn't having any of it. "Dad, we just want to talk to you face-to-face. I'm not gonna pull anything, I swear."

With an irritated sigh, Arthur pulled the covers away from his tear-streaked face, catching his sons' worried looks. "What?"

"Didn't you see us on the couch? Why'd you just leave us there?"

The Brit ran fingers through his tousled hair, trying to find the right words. Why did he have to explain himself to his son, anyway? "…I don't know, perhaps because I am sick of all of this," he finally offered. "I am sick of worrying about you two, of trying to keep you apart, and of having the neighbors telling me what a horrible father I am."

"Dad," Alfred addressed him as he and Matthew sat down on the bed, "you're not horrible. You're strict and stubborn and it hurts that you and Papa don't approve of Mattie and me together, but you're not bad, really."

"…Alfred, you have to understand this from my point of view. It's not necessarily that I…cannot accept this, per se. Do I wish that you two had found love in other people, particularly those out of the family? Yes, but I want you to be happy no matter what you do with your life or who you love. There is _nothing_ more precious to me than both of you and it kills me to see you hurt. It kills me to be the one to _cause_ that hurt, but as your father, I have to do what I think is in your best interest. The problem is, I cannot see how either of you can benefit from this relationship. You can never 'come out' unless you are begging for social suicide, you can never get married; you are basically throwing away any sense of a normal life for- for-"

"For _love_, Dad," Matthew cut in, surprising the others. Uncomfortable with how they were staring at him now, the Canadian stuttered out, "A-At the end of the day, if I had to lose everything else, I-I'd be okay as long as I still had Al. …Um, but that doesn't mean I'd want t-to 'come out'. I wouldn't want to go through that if I didn't have to."

For minutes, they all sat in silence as Arthur took everything in. He thought long and hard before opening his mouth, as he had for the past week, hoping he wouldn't regret this decision. "…Okay."

"What?" Al asked, confused as to what their dad was getting at.

"Okay," the Brit conceded, standing up from the bed. "I am not going to disallow this. Just know that you are in for a world of pain should your relationship be divulged."

Alfred jumped up immediately and roughly hugged his father. "Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Off," Arthur demanded, his son taking his arms away.

The matter not hitting him quite yet, Matthew asked, "Wh-What about Papa?"

"Please, that man broke days ago. His feelings are not as discreet as he would like to believe."

"Mattie, this is great!" Alfred shouted, pulling his lover into a tight hug. "I'd say this calls for a…_celebration_."

Cringing at the what his son was insinuating, Arthur warned the two, "If you two shag each other while I am in the house, or if you put me through any more of your public displays of lewd affection, I will revoke my tolerance."

"All right, all right. We can celebrate by watching _Gilmore Girls_. Let's go!"

As the American ran out of the room, Matt looked to his father. He shyly walked over and embraced the man, mumbling, "Th-Thank you, Dad."

Neither of them was good at showing their family affection for the other, so Arthur awkwardly patted the boy's head. "Y-You're welcome. Er, come, your brother is waiting."

Nodding, Matthew let go and walked out, his father following soon after. Arthur put on a weary smile, feeling as if a large burden had just been lifted off his shoulders.

**. . .**

When Francis walked through the front door of his home, he noticed the television was playing. Curious, the Frenchman strolled into the living room, surprised to find the rest of his family resting amiably on the sofa. His sons were sitting next to each other, their fingers entwined as Matthew rested his head on the other's shoulder. "Hey, Papa!" Al greeted him with a wave of his free hand before returning his attention to the episode on screen.

What was even more confusing was that Arthur was right next to them, seemingly accepting their behavior. "Don't start with me," the Brit muttered as he caught his husband's gaze.

Deciding to let things be for now, Francis squeezed into the couch beside his spouse, crowding the rest of the family.

"Papa, there's not enough room," Matthew complained, squished between his brother and his dad.

"Well," Al suggested, "I could just slip you onto my lap…"

Without taking his eyes away from the TV, Arthur threatened, "You do that and I will take out the teapot and pour boiling water on you."

"Jeez, Dad, why so British? Fine." Alfred looked back to the television screen and grimaced as Dean appeared. "I hate Dean."

"We _know_," Mattie stated, slightly exasperated as he didn't want his brother to go off on another rant about his hatred for the particular character. "He has stupid hair and you don't like him with Rory."

"Exactly. Now, Jess…Jess had cool hair."

"You're just saying that because you wanted him to end up with Rory."

"Rory deserves a guy with cool hair," Alfred argued, letting a flirty grin creep onto his face, "just like you do."

"Alfred."

"Come on, Dad! That wasn't even dirty!"

"Anything is dirty to your father," Francis joked, enjoying the way his husband glared at him.

They all settled down and went back to watching the show. After a while, Matthew let out a yawn, his eyes fluttering tiredly. Smiling affectionately, Al got off the couch and picked the boy up bridal style. "I guess we're going to bed," he announced to his parents as he moved to leave the room, his lover in his arms. "Good night."

"G-Good night." _Let it go_, Arthur thought to himself, trying to ignore the smitten giggling fading as the two went upstairs. With the familiar click of a door falling into place, he sighed and rubbed at his temples.

"So…" Francis began, flipping a blonde lock over his shoulder, "now we talk?"

"Now we talk," the Brit agreed, knowing they had to discuss this.

"All right, why'd you give in?"

Thinking before he spoke, Arthur answered, "Well, I know what it's like not to have society's or even my mum and dad's approval. I can relate to them on that level."

The Frenchman nodded, recalling how his love's parents had practically disowned the man. Not that his own mother and father hadn't been intolerant of their relationship. "At this point," his spouse continued, "I can tell that things are not going to change. I figured then that I should at least alleviate one of their afflictions by accepting things as they are."

As the words flowed out of his mouth, Arthur felt the tears starting to singe his eyes. The Brit leaned against his love, sniffling as he grasped the man's hand. "Fr-Francis, I am so w-worried about them," he confessed.

"I don't blame you at all. It's a very touchy situation."

"Wh-What if anyone finds out?"

"…One of their friends already knows."

"_What_?"

"Yes, that Kateryna girl. According to _Mathieu_, they already talked things out with her and she's actually supportive."

"Unbelievable!" Arthur shouted, dumbfounded. "How the bloody hell do you know this?"

"Well, I _have_ been sleeping on his floor for the past week. I ask questions, he answers."

"Unbelievable…"

The Frenchman put an arm around Arthur's shoulder, giving him a calm smile. "You know, this may not be as bad as it seems."

"Francis, they have to hide their lives from everyone. They cannot ever go public with their relationship, lest they wish to be ostracized."

"Again, that may not be so bad, as long as they are happy."

Sighing, Arthur huddled closer to his spouse. "…Right. Above all else, they are happy together, and we will just have to support them."

"And hey," Francis offered, "at least we'll never have to explain things to the family."

"God forbid," Arthur griped, never wanting to speak to their estranged relatives again.

Chuckling, the Frenchman kissed his love on the cheek. "Come on, let's go celebrate. I've been starved of you all week."

"I swear, sometimes you and Alfred really think alike," the Brit groused, allowing himself to be swept off to their bedroom.

"And _I_ swear, sometimes you can be stubborn as a mule." Francis craned his neck down to suckle the skin on his spouse's neck. "But you have a compassionate heart, even if it's harder to open than, say, the buttons on your shirt."

"Sh-Shut up," Arthur murmured, closing the bedroom door behind them as they proceeded to shag.

**. . .**

**(A/N: I wanted this chapter to have more of Arthur's point of view to provide some understanding behind his actions, so I hope I succeeded in that. See you all next week!)**


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER XIX**

Alfred rested his elbows on the table, lost in thought. It was June 30th, only a day away from Mattie's birthday, and he didn't have a present for him.

A week had passed since their parents accepted the boys' relationship. So far, it had been pretty smooth sailing, aside from the few times Al screwed up and groped his brother while their dad was looking. How could he help it? Mattie was just so _adorable_, and it was difficult for Al to keep his hands off his lover with the cute way the Canadian reacted to his touch.

Sighing, Alfred's arms collapsed on the table and he laid his head on them. He'd never forget his brother's birthday, but with all the chaos going on in the house, the American had kept procrastinating on getting a gift. With the little amount of cash he had, he needed something inexpensive and heartfelt, but _what_ exactly, he had no clue.

The front door opened suddenly and Matthew walked inside, two ice cream cones in his hands. "Al, the ice cream truck was here!" the boy announced, making his way into the kitchen. "I got you something!"

Al smiled, thinking of how Mattie reverted to his childhood when it came to ice cream. Passing off one of the cones to Al, his brother took a seat next to him.

"Thanks," the American said, fixing his eyes on the frozen treat in his hand. It was soft-serve vanilla ice cream in a waffle cone; practically a necessity during the scorching summer. Savoring the sweet flavor, Al looked over to his brother to see how he was enjoying it. What he saw turned him on almost immediately.

Matthew was tonguing the tip of the ice cream, shaping the treat with small licks. Unable to avert his eyes, Al watched as his lover collected the suspiciously white material on his tongue and swallowed. For a few seconds, he wondered if Mattie knew what he was doing to him, but then pushed the thought away, knowing his brother was too innocent for something like that.

It was unbearable to watch that appendage glide over the creamy surface, especially as Alfred felt himself getting hard. He returned his attention to his own ice cream and ferociously gobbled down the cone, trying to find anything to focus on but his erection.

Once the sweet distraction was gone, his blue eyes wandered back to his brother. Suppressing the urge to moan, Al scanned his eyes over the vanilla substance melting all over the boy's hands and face. There was no doubt that it looked completely like something else at this stage, and his zipper was starting to protest against the strain it was under.

Finally finishing off his ice cream, Matt examined his hands and the table. "Shoot," he muttered, "it got everywhere."

Oh, his brother's words were just too much. "Let me help you with that," Al offered, slipping the Canadian onto his lap with his back facing him. Matthew opened his mouth to object before he felt something poking at his backside. Realizing what it was, he blushed deeper and nervously grabbed the sides of the chair. The chafing between Al's clothed erection and his ass was strangely arousing. Grinning slyly, Alfred turned his lover's head to the side, holding his chin in his hand.

"What are you d-doing?" Matt asked as his brother started to lick the soft-serve off his face.

Slithering his tongue around his boyfriend's lips, Al replied, "Just cleaning up the mess."

"I-I can do that myself, Al, really."

"Well, I want to, so I will." The American glossed over the skin, liking the whimpers Matthew was trying to stifle. Deciding he'd done a good enough job, he moved on to Matt's fingers.

"_Nnnh_," the Canadian uttered as his lover sucked the digits, gazing at Al with half-lidded violet eyes. He hated it when Al teased him with finger blow-jobs; it always got him hot. Shifting around on his brother's lap, he tried to find comfort in his stiffening Bermuda shorts, but with Al's legs apart on the seat, Matt couldn't even bring his own together.

Sighing at the pleasant friction between them, Alfred took his brother's fingers out of his mouth and smirked. "What's wrong, Mattie? Getting a little…tight in the pants?"

Matthew glared at his brother, his cheeks flushing even more as his cock got even harder. Damn it, why did Al always have to tease him about getting turned on? It wasn't like he could help it with the way Al touched and talked dirty!

Sneaking a peek over his brother's shoulder at the obvious bulge in the denim, the American returned to the task at hand and moved on to lick the base of Matt's neck. Matthew let out a quiet moan as his boyfriend's wet tongue swept over it, acutely aware that it wasn't the only thing wet at the moment.

"Come on, Mattie," Al taunted, slipping a hand up the white men's tank, "Dad won't be home for a few hours. You can be as loud as you want."

As his brother gently rubbed his nipples, Matthew raised his voice only slightly, his eyes squeezed tight. He then moaned louder as the sensitive skin was pressed, pinched, and flicked to Al's desire.

The American pushed the shirt up to his lover's clavicle, moving in from behind to kiss Matt's nipples. "_Ahhhhhh_!" he mewled as his brother suckled one bud, kneading the other. His back arching slightly, the boy was unbearably hard now, and he needed release.

Finally, Alfred's hands moved to his fly, and the Canadian felt a wave of relief wash over him, knowing he was going to get what he wanted. The zipper was undone, and his brother slinked his hands under the waistband of Matt's boxers. Filled with bliss, Matt waited for the fingers to stroke his length, but realized in extreme disappointment that they were massaging his inner thighs instead.

Growling, Matthew ground harshly into his boyfriend's lap, trying anything to force the hands to his crotch. "Whoa, h-hey!" Al protested, disliking how rough his brother was being. "Calm down, Mattie!"

"How the hell do I calm down? J-Just touch me already!"

"I'm already touching you."

"Y-Yeah, but- but not _there_!"

"Where?"

"_Th-There_!"

Shaking his head as he clicked his tongue, the American insisted, "Mattie, you're going to have to tell me what you want." Nothing would be sexier than naughty words coming out of those innocent lips, especially since it rarely ever happened. The last time Matt had talked dirty was back when they were studying for finals, and it was about _math_ of all things.

"I-I…" Matthew stuttered, frustrated beyond compare. He just couldn't voice his need. It was too embarrassing, but his body screamed for release. Tears stung his eyes and the Canadian felt his throat tighten as he started sniffling. "I-I want- _hic- _I w-want…"

Realizing he had tormented his lover too much, Alfred rested his head on the boy's shoulder and soothingly rubbed his inner thighs. "Mattie, I'm sorry," he apologized, mad at himself for making him cry. "I'll give you what you want. I'm sorry."

Al's hands quickly pulled out his brother's cock, Matthew gasping then mewling loudly as he was fervently caressed. He threw his head back, enraptured by the fondling as his pitch became higher with each stroke.

"You sound like a whining dog wanting to be let out," the American joked, although he found the sound stimulating. Hell, everything from the way his brother's chest heaved up and down to the blonde waves dangling from his pleasure-stricken face was incredibly erotic.

"Th-Then let me out…" Mattie murmured before breaking into a low groan, panting like a canine.

A slick grin made its way onto Alfred's face, and he purred, "I'll let you out if you 'woof' for me." It was fun to make the other do embarrassing things, and they usually ended up turning on the American even more because Matthew was just so damn _cute_.

"Woof!" the Canadian begged, bucking desperately into his brother's hand. His mind was too clouded with lust to feel humiliated for barking like a dog. "Woof! Woof, woof, _woof_!"

Satisfied, Alfred praised, "Good boy," as he pumped his lover's dick faster, the delighted squeals emanating from Matt's throat all the more tantalizing. The contractions in his cock began, and Matthew cried out loudly as he came into his brother's hand.

The Canadian leaned back on Al's torso as the hand milked out the rest of his ejaculation. His breathing beginning to slow, he lifted up his head and glanced behind him. Once Matthew caught a glimpse of his brother suggestively licking the cum off his hand, he whimpered as he felt himself getting hard again. "That's not fair," he complained with a pout.

"Hey," Al argued, continuing to clean the white substance off his palm with his tongue, "I didn't get to cum yet, so it _is_ fair. …So, what do you want to do now?"

Mulling over his options, Matthew's thoughts faltered at a particular one, the arousal poking at his backside driving his hormones up the wall as he actually considered it. Well, they had been dating since May, and…he really wanted to know what it would feel like. It was about time, after all, and if he was ever going to sleep with someone, he wanted it to be with Alfred.

His mind set, the Canadian opened his mouth. "…D-Do you want to take this to the bedroom?"

Alfred gaped at his brother, his mouth wide open. It quickly curved into a smile and he laughed boisterously.

"Al, I'm serious!"

The American just blinked. "…You're serious?"

"Yes, I just said that! God!"

Alfred couldn't believe that his brother was seriously suggesting that they have sex. "…Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Absolutely one hundred percent sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely, completely, and indefinitely one hundred percent sure?"

Exasperated, the Canadian asked, "Al, why don't you believe me?"

"…I just want to make sure you're ready," Al admitted, a look of concern on his face. "I mean, I've wanted to have sex with you since May, but you said you weren't ready then, so I backed off. Now, you suddenly want to sleep with me, and I don't want you to feel like you have to force yourself to sleep with me to keep me or anything. I'm completely fine with waiting until you're ready, you know? I…I don't want you to regret it or anything."

Matthew sighed. Sometimes, he felt like his brother coddled him way too much. "Al, I- I want this," he tried to convince him, pushing himself to look Al in the eye. "I think I'm ready, and I want to at least try it."

"Mattie, I don't know…" Al muttered, averting his blue eyes.

"Look, can you think of it as an early birthday present for me?" This caught the American's attention immediately. "I know you haven't had a chance to get me a gift, so give me this instead. Come on, Al, I really want to."

"…Sure you don't want a puppy instead?"

"Al!"

"All right, all right," Alfred gave in, seeing no reason to continue questioning his brother. It had absolutely nothing to do with that fact that he was unable to resist such an offer. Nope, absolutely not. "We'll…we'll have sex."

"R-Right. Just…promise me you'll…stop if I…c-can't take it."

Oh, his words were just so _arousing_. "I promise. If you want to stop at any time, just tell me, and I will."

"O-Okay."

"All right, now why don't you, uh, head upstairs and choose a room while I go find some lube? Dad and Papa must have tons of it in their room, so I doubt they'll notice if any goes missing."

Nodding, the Canadian slipped off his brother's lap and headed toward the stairs. Matthew ascended them, his erection bobbing awkwardly with each step, quickly deciding on his own bedroom. As he entered the room and laid down on the bed, his heart raced faster. God, the mere thought that he was going to sleep with his brother sent the butterflies aflutter inside of him.

Oh, crap, how were they going to do it? Should he already have his clothes off? No, Al would probably want to do that himself. But should he already be in position? Wait, what position?

Matthew tossed and turned on the sheets, his thoughts desultory and all over the place as he got even more flustered. Settling down on his back again, his ears perked at the sound of feet scaling the stairs. As they came closer and closer, his heart pounded with anticipation, and the Canadian freaked. If Al walked in now, he'd have a full-on view of his brother's upright dick, and that was just…awkward. It wasn't like he could just stick it back in his shorts, so he quickly got on his knees with his back to the door as the boy stepped inside.

Smirking as Matt looked over his shoulder at him, Alfred teased, "You wanna do it doggy-style? I didn't know you were still in heat."

The Canadian's cheeks burned, mortified that he'd actually barked like a dog now that he was back in his right mind. "W-Well, what do you suggest?"

"Missionary. It's easy for first-timers since you can lie on your back and relax."

Matthew simply nodded, finding it somewhat sad that he understood what his brother was talking about thanks to Papa. Looking to what was in the American's hand, his eyes widened as he recognized the familiar rabbit plush. "…You didn't."

"Dad's lube bunny," Al happily declared, climbing onto the bedspread. "Now turn around and lay down so I can blow your mind."

Attempting to cover his crotch, Mattie shifted onto his back, but his lover pulled his hand away. "Come on, Mattie, I've seen your dick a million times. There's no need to hide it."

"B-But it's embarrassing…" He wasn't sure why he was so discomfited by it, considering it was true that Al had seen him before. Maybe it was because they were actually going to make love, and that just made everything embarrassing.

"Then maybe we shouldn't-"

"Al, how many times do I have to tell you I want to? Besides…i-it's my first t-time, so of-of course I'm embarrassed. Aren't you?"

When Alfred avoided his gaze, Matthew easily put two and two together, a small wave of sadness washing over him. "…You've done it before?"

"…It was with Jenna," the American admitted. "You know…my ex-girlfriend."

"I know," Matthew answered, remembering the girl his brother had dated in the previous year…and who broke up with him last summer. Actually, it had been right around this time that the break up happened, strangely enough.

"But…but I've never done it with a guy before, so you'll have my gay virginity, okay? You also get my incestuous virginity."

That made the Canadian smile affectionately, if not humorously, knowing there would be a part of his brother he would have to himself. "And you get _all _of my virginity," he taunted, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck.

"Yeah, looks like you're getting the short end of the stick," Al stated, grinning sheepishly, although his blue eyes gave off a true sense of regret. "…I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Matthew assured him, pulling his brother into a deep kiss.

**. . .**

**(A/N: Sorry to leave it off there, but the sex scene will be continued in the next chapter! This I promise. See you next week!)**


	20. Chapter 20

**(A/N: Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to update next week or the week after that because A) my final exams start tomorrow, B) I'm going to animeNEXT next weekend, and C) I'm going on vacation for a week where I once again won't have internet access. I'll be working on my stories, and I might be able to update next week, but no guarantee. If I can't, updates will begin again the first week of July.)**

**CHAPTER XX**

As their lips met, Alfred's hand seized his brother's shorts, jerking them down in a swift fashion. Matthew, seeing where Al was going, aided in kicking them off his feet. Fingers lightly grasped his men's tank and the American broke the kiss to pull it up over his lover's head, tossing it to the floor.

Al's sky blue eyes scanned over his lover's body, realizing he'd never seen his brother completely naked since they were kids. That fair skin, marred only by a few freckles here and there, only enticed the American further as Matthew's cheeks flared.

Completely exposed before his brother, Matt tried his best to hide his trembling. He felt so vulnerable as his boyfriend looked him over, the comfort of clothing discarded on the floor, out of reach. Unable to even look Al in the eye with how discomfited he was, the Canadian just stared at the wall, hoping his brother couldn't tell how tense he was.

But Alfred could see right through him, for nothing could suppress the small tremors of his lover's body. He knew that Matthew was nervous, maybe even scared, so he would have to go as slow as possible, no matter how much his weeping erection protested.

Placing his hands on his brother's thighs, the American ran his tongue up the curve of Matthew's arousal, leaving behind a thin trail of saliva.

"_A-Al_…" Mattie mewled, the wet, tingling sensation lingering on his cock as his brother took his tongue away. The little taste of pleasure sent a rush of endorphins through his bloodstream, helping him to relax.

Diverting his violet eyes from the wall to his boyfriend, Matthew froze as he watched Alfred shed his shirt. Toned skin peeked out at him, but with the slightest hint of belly fat forming. Not exactly sure why, the Canadian started chuckling and crawled over to his confused brother. "See?" he teased, rubbing Al's stomach with his thumbs. "This is what happens when you eat too many hamburgers."

"Hey!" Alfred complained, pouting as his boyfriend laughed. However, he let a smile slip onto his face, glad that Mattie was more relaxed. It soon turned into a sly smirk as he grabbed the tantalizing dick poking out from under his brother's belly.

Matthew's eyes shot wide open at the firm grip on his love muscle, letting out a breathy moan as he was steadily pumped. "Well," the American spoke, his hand sliding easily over the glistening appendage as the other groped his ball sack, "sex burns calories, so I'm sure I'll stay fit no matter what I eat as long as you let me do you."

"Th-Then- _ahhhhh_ - g-get on with it…" his brother demanded, the fondling hands on his junk making his knees go weak. His quivering legs slumped onto the bedspread, and if Al didn't let up, he wasn't going to last for the actual sex.

Smirking as he let go of his brother's dick, Alfred taunted, "I didn't know you were so keen to have me inside you." Still, he lightly pushed Matthew down on the bed, pulling the lube out of the bunny's pouch, even though he was pretty sure real rabbits didn't have those. The American popped the cap open and let the gel ooze in between his fingers, twiddling them together to warm it.

Spreading his legs to provide his brother with better access, Matthew watched anxiously as one of the slicked fingers moved to his entrance. He gasped at the light pressure made on his anus before the digit entered, slowly rotating to massage the sensitive ring of muscle. "_Ah-Ahhhhhhhn_…"

Al smiled, figuring this would help speed up the stretching process without hurting his lover. At this point, he didn't want to wait too long because Matt was clearly close as the precum started dribbling down his length. It definitely wasn't because his own boner was painfully restricted in the taut denim of his jeans.

"Can I put another in?"

"_O-Oui_," the Canadian answered, unaware that he had reverted to French.

Another digit slipped inside, and Matthew winced, the stretching somewhat painful. As the fingers explored him, he squirmed about as he tried to deal with the stimulating touches dancing on his nerves. He began to pant harder, worrying that he might finish too soon with how turned on he was. "P-Put another in…"

The American nodded, quickly pushing in a third as his brother groaned loudly. As frustrating as it was, he cautiously moved his fingers in and out at a slow pace, making sure that he wasn't hurting Mattie in any way.

"_Ohhhhhh_," Matthew groaned, the slick squelching sounds of friction infiltrating his ears as he tried rocking onto the fingers.

Changing his movements, Alfred tried feeling around more instead of just thrusting. "Now, where is it…?"

Matthew squeaked as fingers lightly brushed something…something that felt really _good_. Remembering their papa's many sex lessons, he realized Al had found his prostate…and he wanted more.

The digits continued to gently touch his sweet spot, causing the Canadian to mewl as pleasure rushed through his body. "A-Al, j-just- _ohhhh_ -g-get inside, o-or-"

Something clattered onto the floor and Alfred flinched, the fingers inside his brother accidentally prodding the flesh walls. Matthew cried out loudly, the sudden jab on his prostate more than enough to make him climax, throwing his head back as semen splattered onto his arched stomach.

For a few seconds, the American only watched, unable to turn away from the orgasmic expression on Matt's face. After glancing down at the floor to find the culpable lube bottle, he returned his attention to his boyfriend, who was panting hard with a tired look on his face.

_Damn it_, Al thought with a grimace. He wanted to continue so bad, but he'd already made his brother cum twice. Matthew would be fucking exhausted if he had to cum again, which the American was sure would happen because he was just amazingly good at making his brother cum.

Reluctantly, Alfred removed his fingers, but his boyfriend grabbed his arm. "Y-You…" he stuttered, still having trouble catching his breath, "you b-better be taking those…those out s-so you can…can fuck me."

"Mattie, believe me, I want to, I really, _really_ do, but you'll be too tired-"

"I don't…I don't fucking care. F-Fuck me."

"Mattie-"

With irresistibly wanton eyes, the Canadian implored, "_Baise-moi s'il vous plaît_," leaning forward as he pressed down on his brother's bulge.

Alfred blushed hard as his boner twitched, exposed to enough of the tongue to know what that meant. Papa was right - French really _was_ the language of love; no wonder their parents had sex so much.

_ I can't resist_, the American thought, unzipping his fly as fast as he could. His jeans and boxers discarded on the floor, Al picked up the lube bottle and poured more onto his hand, running it over his dick.

As his boyfriend climbed back onto the bed and slinked closer, Mattie spread his legs wider, inviting his brother in. "Ready?" Alfred asked, clutching his lover's narrow hips as he raised them for penetration.

"Y-Yeah." He flinched, feeling something slick and big nudge his entrance before pushing inside. Stretched like never before, Matthew cried out at the pain, tears leaking out of the corners of his shut eyes as his body shook. God, was it supposed to hurt this much?

Panicking, Al rubbed his brother's inner thighs, soothing "_shhh_"s emanating from his throat. Oh, Mattie was so, so _tight _around his cock…but the boy was anything but all right. "_Shhhh_. M-Mattie, please relax. I'm…I'm so sorry…"

"A-Al, it- it _hurts_!" the Canadian wailed, his face contorted with pain as heaving sobs filled his chest.

"I know…I know it hurts…I'm sorry…I'm so, so _sorry_…"

Helpless to do anything else, Alfred continued attempting to calm his boyfriend with words and massaging. It seemed to help, as Matt's cries gradually wore down to sniffling. "A-Are you okay now?"

"I- _sniff_ -I think so…" he answered, his hole merely tender now as it adjusted to the pulsating member within him. "J-Just wait a l-little bit."

The American nodded, satisfied for the time being with the snug warmth engulfing him. It only roused him further, abetting him to start thrusting, but he refused to move without his lover's permission.

"_Ahhh_," Mattie mewled as he contracted around the appendage, lustful flames licking the edges of his entrance. Like anesthesia, pleasure began to block out the pain, preparing the sensitive nerves for the operation. "…O-Okay. You can st-start."

"Don't- don't need to tell me twice," Al replied, slowly moving in and out as the sliding friction sent passionate chills up his spine. Liking the squelching sounds as he thrust again and again, Alfred rocked with his boyfriend, fingers clamped tight on his hips.

Matthew shuddered as electric shocks coursed through his weary bones, the little ripples of desire washing over him. Still, it wasn't enough. "A-Al, go- _ohh_, g-go faster…"

"Just…" the American replied between movements, "be…p-patient…"

"C-Come o- _ohhhhh_ - o-on…r-ram into m-me…"

"N-No, _oh-ohhh_…j-just wait a b-b-bit…"

"I-I want you t-to go faster, d-dammit! C-Come on!" God, he wanted Al to strike his pleasure zone so _bad_. It wasn't fair that he was holding back!

"And…and I-I don't want to…t-to- _ohhhh_…t-to hurt you!" Alfred explained, irritated that his brother couldn't understand that. He'd never want to hurt Mattie…especially not in this way. "S-So I'm g-going slow at first, o-okay?"

Groaning, the Canadian looked to him with wanton irises. Really, Al needed to let up on his overprotective side. "I-I get that, b-but I want…I want you to r-ram me _th-there_, okay? Make…make me feel good…_s'il vous plaît…_"

Alfred paused, sighing before he nodded as he accepted his lover's lustful plea. Well, he'd done a lot of preparation, so hopefully Mattie was ready to go rougher.

Nothing could prepare Matthew for the intensely sweet thrusts into his prostate, toes curling as absolute delight enveloped him. "_AHHHH! Ahh, ah, _A-Alfred- _AH_!"

Al watched the rapture flooding through those violet-blue seas, melding perfectly with the hot breath rising from the fleshy petals of his brother's lips. In that moment, he swore that no one, _no one_, could ever be more beautiful than his brother. "Oh, oh God, Mattie, _ohhhh_…"

As his lover writhed lusciously beneath him, the American leaned forward and gave him a feathery kiss on the tip of his cock, slipping out his tongue to brush over the dribbling precum. A small token of affection it was, but it was the key to driving the Canadian over the edge.

"_AHHHH, AHHH, ALFRED_!" the Canadian practically screamed, streams of white spurting as he peaked, speckling parts of his brother's face.

Following soon after as Matt squeezed tight around his love muscle, Al groaned out his brother's name as semen gushed into the canal of his boyfriend's backside.

"…H-How was I?" Alfred asked, panting hard as he pulled out.

Smiling tiredly with half-shut eyes, Matthew murmured, "B-Best gift ever. Papa r-really taught you well…" Within a few seconds, he began to drift off to sleep, exhaustion fully overtaking him in less than a minute.

As he watched his brother's chest rise and fall, Alfred sighed. "Yeah, well….he's not the only one," the American said to no one but himself, staring sadly at his feet.

**. . .**

Al sat alone at the kitchen table, slurping on his soda as his brother rested upstairs. The aftermath had been a real bitch, what with cleaning everything, replacing the lube bunny in their parents' room, and redressing Matthew in his sleep. All that had done was nearly turn him on again, which would have been even more of a bitch to deal with. Not to mention that it was incredibly difficult to dress a sleeping person.

As he pondered all that had happened, the garage rumbled to life, and Al realized their dad was home. Good thing he came up with an ingenious explanation for all of this while the man was out.

"I'm home," Francis announced as he walked through the garage door, noticing the boy sitting at the table.

"Oh, hey, Papa," Al greeted him, confused. Wasn't he supposed to be still at the restaurant? "What are you doing home so early?"

"Ah, well, some punks got into a fight in front of the restaurant. It was a real nasty fight: teeth and blood everywhere. The cops had to come by and there were all these arrests and interrogations. I figured it'd be smart to just shut down for the day, so here we are."

"Oh, sounds cool."

"Yes, to you. Where's _Mathieu_?"

"Upstairs," he explained, trying hard not to break into a smile. "We went rollerblading before and he fell down and kicked himself in the butt."

"Again?" Francis asked, slipping out of his shoes before taking a seat at the table.

That was the best part of his excuse: it had actually happened before, so his father _had_ to believe it. God, Mattie was so clumsy sometimes.

As if on cue, a crash sounded upstairs, and the two immediately jumped up from their chairs. "Mattie?" the American called out, running up the steps with their papa in tail. "Mattie, are you okay?"

They burst into the room to find the boy on all fours on the floor, trembling. When he slowly looked over his shoulder at them, Al flinched, seeing the pained expression on his lover's face.

"I tried to g-get off the bed, b-but it- it hurts…" the Canadian muttered, tousled blonde locks hanging limp with sweat as his arms and legs continued to quiver. A dull but pressing ache in his backside, Matt winced as he shifted slightly, exacerbating it further.

After staring at his ailing son for almost a minute, Francis turned to face Alfred, crossing his arms and tapping a foot as he raised an eyebrow. There was a knowing smile on his face as he asked, "Anything you care to tell me?"

"Nope…" Al answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he averted his blue eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Alfred."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? You really think you can fool _me _about _this_." He pointed to Matthew without looking away from Alfred, somewhat amused that his son thought he could pull the wool over his eyes.

"_Look_, Papa," Matthew retorted with a bitter tongue, "we all know you've done a lot of fucking in your life and know the results for the one being fucked, so just get me some fucking painkiller."

His jaw dropping wide open, the American gaped at his brother, shocked that he would talk like that to their father of all people. _Damn, I must've really hurt him_, Al thought, biting down on his lip. The one thing he'd been trying desperately to prevent happened anyway. Well, Alfred had expected that in the first place since Papa had told them for years that anal sex could be really painful, but he'd hoped the lube and preparation time would make things better.

"…You know," Francis replied, not at all perturbed by his son's words, "most parents would ground their kids for talking to them like that, but I have a feeling you're not going anywhere anytime soon anyway."

With that, the Frenchman smugly strolled out of the room, descending the stairs to get painkiller for his son. How could he not? He may not have ever experienced that kind of pain, but he knew it hurt Arthur a lot, and he was more of a softie when it came to Matthew anyway.

Alfred glanced around the room, unsure what to do. Knowing exactly what was on his brother's mind, Matt ordered, "Just go downstairs for now. Talk things over with Papa, okay? I can't exactly go down there myself…"

"…I-I'm sorry, Mattie."

The Canadian waved it off, taking a deep breath before scrunching up his face again. Really, the smallest movement could make it worse.

Hesitantly, Al left the room, sliding down the banister. "Don't do that," his father commanded from the kitchen as he rifled through the cabinets for the medicine. "I've told you time and time again that you'll damage it."

"Are you mad?" Alfred asked as he walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

"About what, that you had sex with your brother? I wish you hadn't tried to hide it from me, but no, I'm not mad. After all, this was inevitable. As long as you talked it over and used lube, I don't mind. Now, your father might be another story. I'm going to have to tell him, you know."

Alfred groaned, flopping over the table. "Whatever. He only told us not to do it while he's around, so we didn't break his rules."

"…May I ask something? Whose idea was it?"

"It was Mattie's idea," the American answered.

When his father gave him an incredulous look, he fought, "It's true! He wanted it as an early birthday gift since I'm broke, but I seriously discussed it with him to make sure he was ready! I'd never pressure him into something like that, I _swear_!"

Taken aback by the impassioned response, Francis simply stared at him for a few moments. He hadn't meant to insinuate anything: he was just surprised that Matthew would be the one to request it. Why was his son so worked up over this? "…Alfred, I believe you."

"Good," Al mumbled, attempting to cool off. Damn it, if he wasn't careful about what he said, he could give everything away. But still, how could Papa even think that he'd do something like that? Pressuring was just plain wrong, especially if it was for sex.

Needing to clear his head, the American decided to move on to another topic. "…Hey, Papa?"

"Hm?" Francis murmured, a bit annoyed that the medicine cabinet was in such disarray. "What is it?"

"So…you know how Mattie and I go to the Fourth of July Festival together every year for my birthday?"

"But of course."

"A-Are you okay with that?"

"Alfred, it's not like you're going to do anything in public. Also, people will expect you to go with your brother, so they'll get suspicious if you suddenly don't after all these years. I mean, even when you were going out with that girl last year, you still went to the festival with him."

Francis saw his son flinch slightly at the mention of the event, realizing he'd touched a nerve. Ah, heartbreak never truly went away, even after so much time.

Smiling affably, the Frenchman continued, "…Besides, I understand that you want to spend your birthday with the one you love, and that's perfectly fine."

Alfred couldn't help but break into a smile, thinking of how great the fair was going to be with Mattie by his side. "…Thanks, Papa."

"Mm-hmm…Aha! Found it."

Francis closed the medicine cabinet with the painkiller in hand, gently placing it on the counter as he filled a glass with water. Following his father upstairs, the American reentered the room as Francis opened the medicine bottle.

"Now," the Frenchman ordered as he shook two pills into his hand, "take these with the water and then go back to bed. You're on bed-rest for the rest of the day."

"Papa, I'm not pregnant," Matt complained, but he complied anyway. Shifting onto his knees as he winced, the Canadian took the pills and threw them into his mouth, washing them down with the water. "…Look, I'm sorry for what I said."

"Ah, it's all water under the bridge," his father replied, getting back on his feet. "Now, I am going back downstairs to relax. Al, help your brother get back on the bed."

"Right," Alfred agreed as their father left, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's back as the other slipped under Matt's backside. As he swept his brother off his feet, the Canadian whimpered, Al's hand under his ass putting pressure on the aching area. "Sorry," Al apologized, upset that he'd put his lover through a lot of pain. "It really hurts, huh?"

Matthew sighed as his boyfriend laid him on the bed. "Well, it's not unbearable. …Don't worry about it. I'm sure what you did helped a lot. I'd probably be feeling a lot worse otherwise."

Nodding a bit, the American paused before continuing with his thoughts. "…Mattie?"

"What?"

With water threatening to sting his blue eyes, Alfred asked, "…D-Do you regret it?"

"…No," Matthew answered, blushing. "I-I'm glad we…did it. I really am." He then quickly covered his face with Kumajirou, embarrassed by his words.

Taking in the answer, Alfred smiled, entwining his fingers with his lover's. That was all he needed to hear.


	21. Chapter 21

**(A/N: Happy American Independence Day! And happy belated Canada Day, which was last Thursday! Sorry for the break, but I'm back from my vacation with an extra long chapter. Enjoy!)**

**CHAPTER XXI**

Matthew was rudely awakened by the loud drone of a vacuum as it rammed against his bedroom door. "Mattie, I'm coming in to clean," Alfred announced, entering without permission.

"Eh?" the Canadian mumbled as his brother walked in with the rumbling machine, reluctantly sitting up in bed to rub his eyes awake.

Turning off the vacuum, Al asked, "No way, you were still asleep? Come on, rise and face the day. I have to clean."

Confused and still half-asleep, Matt glanced toward the clock, realizing it was past noon. "Why are you going all OCD on me?"

"…Mattie, we've got people coming over in two hours. Don't tell me you forgot what today is."

"…July third?"

"Yeah…?"

Matthew's violet eyes widened as realization hit him. "Oh my God!" he shouted, practically flying out of bed. Right, every year, they celebrated their birthdays together in one party with their friends since the two were born within a few days of each other. However, their family still celebrated their birthdays separately on their designated dates.

Throwing the closet doors open, he thrashed through the clothes. "I-I gotta get dressed! And clean! We have to clean!"

Alfred laughed as his boyfriend rush-dressed, frantically attempting to pull a t-shirt over his head. Walking over to help, Al informed him, "That's the arm hole, Mattie. Your head won't fit through there."

"No, it has to! It has to fit!"

"Would you stop being a spazz and let me help you?" the American teased, shifting the fabric until his lover's head popped out of the correct hole. "See? All better."

Embarrassed by his frenzied antics, Matthew stressed shyly, "We…we have to clean."

Al waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I already vacuumed most of the house. I just didn't get to the kitchen and bathrooms yet."

"You're kidding me," the Canadian stated, an incredulous look on his face.

"Yeah, Dad and Papa promised to stay in their room for most of the party if I helped tidy up the house."

"Oh." Nervously ruffling his blonde waves, Matthew murmured, "I guess I'll, um, go mop the kitchen."

"No, no, no," Alfred denied him, capturing his lover in his arms. "You leave the cleaning to me. All you have to do is make food for everyone, and that can wait. Besides, you're not fully dressed yet."

Sure enough, Matt looked down and noticed the familiar plaid pattern of his boxers. "So…" Al purred, slinking a hand down to his boyfriend's crotch, "why don't we have some fun? You don't need to get dressed for that."

Matthew gasped as his junk was squeezed, his brother's palm proceeding to massage him through the fabric. His face flared even more than usual, as every moment of contact recently reminded him of when they'd made love three days ago.

"A-Al…" he whined, his breath hitching as his cock was pulled out of the fly and lightly stroked, "s-save that for l-l-later- _ohhhh_… D-Dad and Papa m-might hear…"

Smirking, Alfred didn't let up, putting more pressure at the head as he pumped the growing appendage. "Oh, come on, they're out getting paper plates and food and whatnot. Besides, I think down here is really liking it."

"W-Well, up here isn't!" the Canadian argued, trying to ignore the fingers sliding up and down his dick.

"Really?" To prove him wrong, Al's other hand reached under his brother's shirt to touch his nipples, tweaking them slightly. Matt squeaked sweetly in response, cheeks flushing as his breathing hastened. "I think 'up here' likes it just fine." For extra measure, he gave his brother's dick a tight squeeze.

Mewling, Mattie involuntarily bucked his hips into the hand on his cock. "M-More…"

"What, a hand job's not good enough for you?" Al teased, gliding his tongue up the curve of his boyfriend's neck. "Want me to suck you off?"

Matthew nearly melted at the thought, simply nodding as his mind was clouded with pleasure. Oh, Al's blow jobs were always so _good_.

With a playful grin, the American sat his brother down on the foot of the bed, jerking down his boxers. He kneeled on the floor, close enough so that his face was right between Matt's legs. "Ready?" he asked with a smirk, flirtatiously licking his lips.

"Just s-suck me off already," Matthew demanded, clenching the sheets between his fists.

"Wow, someone's impatient." Still, he complied and ran his tongue over the pulsating skin, painting it with a coat of saliva.

Feeling the appendage slick over him, Matthew moaned, "_Oohhhh_…" Al let his brother's cock past his lips, sucking along the length as he darted his tongue out to lick the tip.

The Canadian let out squeals, the wet sensation almost too much for him to handle. He squirmed about on the bed, trying to bring his legs together, but of course, Al's head was in the way.

Daring himself to go farther, the American deep-throated his lover's cock, gripping the sheets in an effort to suppress his gag reflex. After all, he'd heard it felt really good for the receiver, so it was worth a try.

"_Ah-Ahhhhhn_…" Matthew moaned louder, lying back on the bed as he rolled his hips into that amazing mouth. "G-God…A-Al…_ahhhh_…_ahhhhh_!"

When Al started purring, the luscious vibrations made it impossible to hold out any longer, and Matt cried out as he came hard into his boyfriend's mouth.

Alfred happily swallowed his lover's cum, kind of liking the taste of it. "Mmm, Mattie flavor. My favorite."

"Sh-Shut up…" the Canadian whined, hating how his brother said such embarrassing things.

"So," the American began, standing up to brush the tips of their noses together in an Eskimo kiss, "was it good?"

"…Yes."

Al gave him a bright smile, stealing a kiss before walking away. "Now, get dressed while I finish cleaning up. You can start baking after I mop the kitchen."

"O-Okay," Matt replied, his heart hopelessly fluttering inside his chest. It was still amazing to him how much of an effect Alfred had on his body.

"How's the food coming along?" Alfred asked, laying out bowls and platters on the square table.

"Cookies are cooling, brownies are done, and the snacks are ready-to-go in the pantry," Matthew informed him, transporting the treats to a plate with a spatula.

After rifling through the cupboard for chips and candies, the American made his choices and poured them into the large bowls. Smiling as he glanced over at his boyfriend, Al stated, "You look real cute in an apron."

The Canadian blushed slightly, scraping the cookies off the baking sheet. "…They'll be here any minute. Why don't you go wait by the front door for them?"

"Okay." Wandering off to the foyer, Al peered through the windowpanes lining the door. A large grin erupted onto his face as he saw Ivan and Kateryna walk up the pathway. "Hey!" he greeted them, ripping open the front door without a second thought. "Thanks for coming!"

"It is a pleasure," Ivan said, stepping inside as he gave the American a handshake. "Your house is beautiful as ever, da?"

Following him in with gifts in her arms, Kateryna agreed, "It's true. Good to see you again, Al!"

"You too, Kat! Here, let me take those. Mattie's in the kitchen."

"Thanks." She made her way onto the cool tile, her short hair swaying in rhythm with her vast bust. "Hi, Matt!"

Turning around from the stove, where he was slipping chocolate chip cookies off onto a plate, the Canadian replied, "Oh, hey, Kat! What's up with you?"

"Not much. How are, um, _things_ going?"

"O-Oh, _things_ are good," he answered with a warm flush rising to his cheeks, knowing she was asking about his relationship with Al. "They're really…really good." There was no telling what she would think if she knew exactly how good _things_ were.

"I'm glad," she told him with a sincere grin.

Matthew smiled back, thinking of how lucky he was to have her as a friend. There weren't many people would support someone after finding out he was dating his sibling, adopted or not.

…Then again, Kat had a sister who was constantly ranting about how she was going to marry Ivan someday…It wasn't like Matt's relationship with his adopted brother was her first exposure to incest…

"Hey, Feliciano!" Alfred shouted from the foyer as the Vargas brothers arrived. "Lovino! How've you guys been?"

"Really good!" Feliciano replied, his auburn hair curl bouncing as he pulled the American into a friendly hug.

Scoffing, Lovino muttered, "Yeah, well, things would be better if my useless brother hadn't dragged me here. And really, he just _had_ to buy these expensive presents."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Lovino," Al joked, piling the gifts by the door. "Help yourselves to the food set out in the kitchen. Dad's gonna be back with the pizza soon."

Appearing in the doorway with both arms around Yao and Kiku, Yong Soo exclaimed, "Ooh, I love pizza! You know, pizza originated in Korea."

Alfred flashed a charismatic grin. "I'm sure it did. Come on in."

"Ve~ no, it didn't…" Feliciano complained as the Asians walked inside, placing their presents to the side of the door.

Patting his brother on the back, Lovino directed the Italian toward the kitchen and grumbled, "Just let it go."

Thinking everyone had arrived, the American dramatically kicked the front door shut. "All right, it's time to party! Woo-hoo!"

"Al, calm down," his brother warned him, walking out of the kitchen. "We don't want to break anything."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? The pizza's not here yet."

"I suggest we watch _RENT_," Yong Soo suggested, fishing a DVD case out of his backpack.

Blinking confusedly, Matthew looked to him and asked, "…What's _RENT_?"

"Mattie, are you serious?" Al teased, finding it hard to believe that his beloved brother had never seen it.

"Oh, we got us a _RENT_ virgin!" Yong Soo shouted, running into the living room with the DVD in hand, holding it like an Olympic torch above his head.

The Canadian flinched slightly at the mention of "virgin", still not over the fact that he wasn't one anymore. Looking to Al, he inquired, "I-Is it a good movie?"

Alfred smiled, putting an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "Hell, yeah! It's the most controversial musical you'll ever see. It's got everything: gays, cross dressers, junkies, club dancers, starving artists, corporate sell-outs, AIDS, just _everything_."

"Sounds…interesting."

"I know it sounds really weird, but its themes are really good. And, you know, it's real life."

Nodding with a sincere interest, Matthew replied, "All right, well, let's go watch it then."

Before they could even move an inch, the doorbell rang. Confused, as he had been sure everyone had arrived, the American parted from his lover and walked to the door. "Who could that be? Toris already said he couldn't make it…"

Knowing immediately who it was, Matthew panicked. "Wait, Al-"

Al jerked the door open with no hesitation, freezing in his tracks once he realized who was standing there.

"…Hello, Alfred," Ramón stiffly greeted him, wishing Matt had opened the door instead.

_ Shit_, Alfred's mind spat as tension infiltrated every muscle in his body, _I completely forgot he was coming. _He was Matthew's friend, after all, so it was inevitable. Rage pooled inside of him as he felt an intense urge to just slam the door in that bastard's face, but Mattie wouldn't like that.

"…Come in," Al muttered, stepping out of the way.

Reciprocating the American's reluctantly polite manner, Ramón entered the house and handed the presents over to him. "Hi, Matt."

"Hi," Matthew greeted him, giving the Cuban a shy wave.

"Um, so, we're watching _RENT_," Al informed him, dropping the gifts on the floor beside the others.

"Oh, that's a good movie."

"It's, uh, in the living room."

"Then let's…go there."

"…Yeah."

The two walked away into the den, keeping their distance from each other. Matthew sighed and followed them, hoping they wouldn't fight.

When the Canadian walked in, he saw Alfred sitting on one side of the sofa and Ramón on the other, an empty couch cushion in between. It was obvious that they expected him to sit there.

Matthew could already sense how awkward the rest of the party would be.

"Bye, guys!" Alfred called out into the night, waving their friends goodbye before closing the door. Usually, Mattie would've been right beside him, but the poor guy had crashed on the couch. It was strange how he was worn out so easily at parties, yet he'd managed to hold out when they'd finally had sex. After all, he came three times within short intervals in one day; if that wasn't impressive stamina, Al didn't know what was.

Sure that everyone had left, the American let out a sigh of relief and turned around, walking back to the kitchen. "Mattie, everyone's gone n-"

He saw Ramón leaning against the archway leading to the living room, as if he were waiting for him. Damn it, he kept blocking the Cuban's presence out of his mind. All evening, he'd been civil with the bastard, even when they sat on the couch watching _RENT_ with Mattie in between them, but now his brother was asleep…out of the way.

Forcing himself to stifle the sudden hatred arisen in him, Alfred stood his guard and muttered, "…You're still here."

"I want to talk to you," the Cuban asserted, his hands stuffed in his denim pockets.

"…What about?" Al asked, apprehensive as his brother was still in an earshot even if he wasn't awake.

Ramón sighed. "Matt. What else would I talk with you about?"

"…Fine, but first I gotta take Mattie upstairs," Alfred conceded, strolling into the living room. He didn't want to talk with the Cuban, but if it was about his lover, it wasn't a discussion he could just blow off. "It's not good for him to sleep on the couch."

Placing his hand on the Canadian's shoulder, he rattled it slightly. "Come on, Mattie. It's time for bed."

Matthew just moaned and rolled over, burying his face into the sofa. "Mattie, come on," Al insisted, shaking him harder. "You can't sleep on the couch."

"Mmm, carry me," Matt muttered, tossing over to lazily raise his arms up. Chuckling at his lover's childlike demeanor, Alfred complied and lifted him off the couch bridal style. He flashed a triumphant smile in Ramón's direction as he swaggered upstairs, Matt's arms draped around his neck.

"All right, now get some sleep," the American ordered, laying his boyfriend down on the bed.

"No…" Mattie whined, attempting to pull Al down with him. "Stay here with me."

Alfred sighed, bending down to steal a kiss from those tempting lips. "I gotta do something first, but I'll come back and sleep with you, okay?"

Smiling tiredly with shut eyes, he murmured, "Mmkay." Within a few seconds, he was fast asleep, chest rising and falling like the calm waves lapping the shores of the Caribbean.

The American left the room with a loving grin, but he soon wiped it away as he made his way down the stairs, replacing it with a poker face. There were certain rules he tried to adhere to when he had to deal with Ramón: keep a straight face, control your anger, and never, ever _cry_.

As expected, the Cuban was right where Al had left him, resting against the archway. "…Let's go down to the basement," Al suggested, his guard up and ready. "I don't want to risk anyone overhearing our conversation." His parents were residing in their room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, and he had no idea if they were asleep. The basement was the most clandestine place he could think of at the moment.

"Aren't you the paranoid one," Ramón remarked, fiddling nervously with the plastic gum package in his pockets. God, he needed a smoke, but he'd been trying to quit recently. It was definitely because it was detrimental to his health, not because Matt wasn't fond of the choking smell of burning cigarettes.

Walking out into the hallway, Alfred opened up the basement door. "Are you coming or not? Otherwise, I'll just throw you out."

"I know, I know. You didn't want me here in the first place. It was all Matt's idea." Still, the Cuban complied, following his rival down the steps, the narrow stairway lit only by faded rays emanating from the ceiling.

"Don't even _think_ of smoking down here," Al threatened, hopping off the last few steps to the floor.

"Don't worry, I don't even have my smokes with me."

Staring at him in confusion, the American saw the plastic package he pulled out of his pocket. "…Nicotine gum? Are you serious?" He'd thought it was weird that he hadn't seen the Cuban sneak a smoke all day. The Ramón he knew couldn't go anywhere without a pack or two.

"Yeah," the Cuban answered, popping in a piece, "I've been trying to quit."

A knowing smirk made its way onto Alfred's face. "…I get it now: Mattie doesn't like it when you smoke, does he?"

When his rival glared at him in response, Al continued to goad him, feeling in control for once. "Whatever happened to the great player? Mr. Never-Get-Tied-Down? Oh, that's right, he got wrapped around my brother's little finger."

Unappreciative of the ridicule, Ramón countered, "Yeah, well, if I'm wrapped around his finger, then he's got you dick-whipped."

Al simply shrugged. "I prefer the term 'hopelessly devoted'." Though he wasn't offended at all, for he knew it was true and didn't mind one bit. Besides, his dick usually got what it wanted from Matthew anyway, so it didn't really matter that he was so whipped.

"…Yeah," Ramón replied, regaining his cool demeanor as he chewed the nicotine-laced gum, "I'd say so. Hell, even when you were dating Jenna, you blew her off to go to the festival with Matt."

The Cuban smirked as Al froze, any sense of his self-satisfaction dropped within seconds. "I didn't blow her off," Al growled, clenching his fists. Why did it feel like everyone was bringing that up lately? "She knew that I always go with Mattie on the Fourth of July. Everyone knows that."

"And yet, although you were _dating_ her, you ignored her pleas to go to the carnival together and went with your brother instead. Face it, he even had you dick-whipped back then. No wonder she broke up with you."

Alfred opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing would come out. The words just wouldn't form and he knew why:

What Ramón said was true.

As he ran over his memories in his mind, the American wondered if there had there ever been a time when he _hadn't_ put Matthew first. Unable to think of a single instance, Al averted his eyes to the ground and put a hand to his mouth.

God, just how long had he had this brother complex?

_Unbelievable_, the Cuban thought, realizing he'd struck an awfully strong nerve. Damn, he hadn't seen Alfred so vulnerable in a long time. Although he knew it was wrong, he just couldn't explain or resist the incredible high he got from hurting Al.

"Oh, but that's not the only thing that bothered her, now was it?" he taunted, determined to sever that nerve. "Sure, your constant devotion to Matt was the main factor, but wasn't there something else she wanted from you besides your full attention? Wasn't it…sex?"

Alfred flinched, blue eyes wide and focused on the floor as he held back tears. _Stop_, his mind silently pleaded. _Just stop it!_

"But you didn't want to. You didn't feel ready, but she just kept pressuring and pressuring you…"

"Stop it!" he shouted, unable to take much more. "Stop talking about her!"

"All right," Ramón agreed, "let's talk about Matt instead. You're like this… loyal dog. You're always by your master's side, keeping him safe as you beg for praise and love in return because you're so dependent on him. You've always been like that. Hell, I bet that even if Matt hated you, pushed you away, _abused_ you, you'd still come crawling back like the pitiful cur you are."

"Sh-Shut up!" Alfred demanded, clenching his eyes shut. God damn it, the Cuban's words were getting to him, but he couldn't let himself break down in front of this bastard. Never…never again.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"J-Just shut up!" Why? Why did everything he said have to be true, cutting him right down to the bone?

"So, let's get back on topic here," Ramón suggested. "I started this talk to tell you that I don't have plans to take Matt to the festival. I know he'd never agree since you two always go together as it's your brotherly tradition."

_That's right_, the American thought, _Mattie's mine. Not his; mine_. Still, even that wasn't enough to compensate for the anguish surging through him. "S-So what?"

"However," the Cuban asserted, "that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Love's like a carnival game- you've got all these competitors fighting with each other to win the prize. They all pay a price and risk a lot just to get a chance, but only one is lucky enough to run away with the prize. That guy is the one who's most skilled, most prepared; in other words the _best_."

Stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he turned toward the stairs, Ramón asserted, "And that's me. Have fun at the festival, but if I were you, I'd keep an eye on Matt. A prize can easily be stolen if you take your eyes off it for a second."

"You- y-you!" the American stuttered, unable to find the right words with how worked up he was. How _dare_ he refer to Matthew as some trophy; how dare he _threaten_ him!

"What, got a problem with what I say?"

"I _always_ h-have a problem if-if it has to do with- with you!" Alfred spat, trembling as he was on the verge of breaking down in front of the person he hated the most. _Just a little longer…just hold out for a little longer…_

"Then why don't you go upstairs and get your precious 'Mattie' to comfort you?" Ramón taunted as he ascended the steps. "Or you could just run to me like you always used to do."

"G-Get _out_!" Alfred screamed, slapping a hand over his glistening eyes as he lost the battle, choked sobs filling his chest. "G-God- _hic_ -d-damn it, just _leave_!"

The Cuban just stood there for a while, watching his rival's defeat. It'd been so long since he'd seen Al cry and he remembered all the times his ex-friend had come to him for solace. _That doesn't matter now_, Ramón thought, pushing away the faint twinge of guilt that was so common these days as he continued up the stairs and out the front door. _All's fair in love and war_.

Even after he heard the front door slam shut, Alfred continued bawling, slumping onto the floor with his head in his hands. His still healing wounds of nearly a year had been ripped right open again in mere minutes, by simple, destructive words. To make matters worse, he'd broken all of his rules, utterly falling apart in front of that bastard. It was pathetic.

After a few minutes, Al regained some control, his sobs quieter and occasional between sniffling. He slowly made his way up the basement stairs, quietly shutting the door behind him. Trudging upstairs to Matthew's room, he wiped away the last of his tears, determined not to let his brother know how much of a wreck he was.

Alfred entered the room, gazing sadly at the figure lying asleep on the sheets. Shedding all of his clothes, the American carefully climbed onto the bed, trying his best not to wake his sleeping beauty. Matthew, jostled awake by the shifting mattress as Al crawled closer, mumbled, "Eh? Al? What's going on?"

"Don't tell me you forgot," he whispered, hugging his lover from behind. "I came back to sleep with you, just as I promised."

"Mmm…" the Canadian mumbled sweetly in his half-asleep state, vaguely aware of the arms around his narrow frame and the light kisses on his neck. When the lips abruptly pulled away, Matt let out a whimper of discontent. "Why are you stopping?"

Alfred didn't answer for a few seconds. "…Can I hide in you awhile?"

"Eh? What's this about?"

"Let's just stay here forever," Alfred pleaded, resting his head in the crook of his lover's neck. "We- we don't need anyone else. We don't need them to- to remind us of stuff we don't wanna remember. We don't need them to f-fucking stab us in the b-back…"

"Al, what's bothering you?" the Canadian asked, concern seeping into his voice. It worried him whenever his brother talked like this, as it usually was a result of something upsetting.

"I don't want to talk about it," Alfred groused, trying hard to keep his eyes from watering.

"…Is this about Ramón?"

He flinched, and his arms tightened around his lover's waist. "Mattie, I'm- I'm a _wreck_," Al mewled, his voice quiet and pitiful. "I'm falling to p-pieces. Please, let's just go to sleep. I want to lose myself in you."

Matthew was shocked, the vulnerable sound of his brother's voice so heartrending. Had he ever heard him so broken?

Sighing, he gave in, but not before grasping one of his boyfriend's hands and entwining the fingers with his own. "Al, if you want to cry, you can. If you want to tell me anything, you can. You don't always have to be the hero."

Alfred nodded, but he still held back the tears; held back the words threatening to burst from him throat. This wasn't about being the hero. If he broke down in front of Matthew right now, he'd have to tell him _everything_.

And the wounds would only open wider.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER XXII**

"All right, so we're going to treat this like any year," Alfred confirmed with his brother-lover as they walked toward the festival. "That means we still go on every ride and act like it's nothing."

"That's the plan," Mattie stated, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his Bermuda shorts. It was the first fourth of July they would celebrate as a couple, but they still had to pretend their relationship was only that of brotherly love, so there was a pressure to act as normal as possible.

Once they were on the fair grounds, they passed a row of empty stands, their inner areas dark but veiled by white flaps that graced the dirt. "What do you think those are for?" Matthew asked, confused as to why the whole section was unlit except for one streetlamp.

"Oh, I heard about this," the American remarked, scratching the back of his neck. "They were going to have caterers this year, but the committee couldn't afford it in the end with everything else they had to pay for. So, the committee stopped setting up over here, but they didn't bother taking anything down, so that's why the tarps are still up. If you want food, you have to get it at the concession stands."

"That's too bad. They should've asked Papa if he'd cater. I bet he would've."

"Well, at least we know where to go if we want to get hot and heavy," Alfred whispered into his lover's ear, his breath carrying a seductive confidence that sent Matt's heart off on a marathon. Really, they were supposed to act as if they were just brothers, and here was Al, flirting in public and making his pulse race.

Blushing up a storm, the Canadian elbowed his boyfriend in the gut, trying to appear as brotherly as possible while getting the message across. "All right, all right, I get it," Al muttered, massaging the bruise he swore was forming on his stomach. Damn, Mattie could hit hard.

Matthew sighed as they walked into the main area of the festival, stars shining above their heads. He gazed into the depths of the night as two abandoned balloons floated upward through it, their strings intertwining in a dance until they were far out of sight. He assumed their tango would continue until the crushing pressure of the atmosphere tore them apart, but for now, they would be delighted in each other's company until their deaths.

After all, that was life.

Alfred's blue eyes lit up as he recognized the song playing over the speakers. "Mattie, they're playing my song!"

Glancing toward the amps blasting the Jason Mraz hit, Matthew remarked, "Well, you _were_ born on the fourth of July. So, what do you want to do first?"

Looking around, Al spotted the tall Ferris wheel stationed farther into the fair grounds, exclaiming, "Oh man, the Ferris wheel! We have to go on that!"

"Al, I don't know…" Mattie whined, scanning his nervous eyes over the metallic structure. "The only thing keeping you in your seat is that bar…The ones last year at least had a top to them…and I'm afraid of heights…"

Alfred ignored his boyfriend's worries and grabbed his wrist, dragging him over to the ride as he did every year. "Come on, Mattie, don't be such a Leslie."

"God, I never should have shown you _Stoked_."

The two made their way to the end of the line and waited, Matthew timidly fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt as he looked the attraction up and down. Absolutely nothing about it was appealing, yet the movies always portrayed Ferris wheels as the most romantic ride in the world.

After nearly ten minutes, the brothers reached the front of the line and sat down in the suspended bench, which had a seatbelt in addition to the lap-bar much to Matt's relief. Yet, as the wheel began to move, the seat swung back and forth, the squeaks and scrapes of the machinery driving his anxiety level to maximum level.

"Al, it's creaking…" Mattie whimpered, his knuckles white from his strong hold on the lap-bar.

Seeing how tightly his lover was gripping the metal rail, the American teased, "You can hold my hand if you're so scared."

Rolling his eyes, Matt said, "Ah ha, very funny-"

The Canadian screamed as they jerked to a stop at the top, clinging to the lap-bar for dear life. "Sure you don't want to hold my hand?" Alfred taunted, smirking all the while.

Matthew didn't care what anyone else thought: Ferris wheels were not romantic at _all_.

**. . .**

After taking on all the rides, the Bonnefoy brothers found themselves with fifteen minutes to spare before the fireworks began. "Hey, I'm gonna go get some cotton candy," Alfred told his boyfriend, pointing his thumb toward the concession stand. "Stay here until I get back, okay?"

Mattie nodded, knowing it was a tradition in itself to eat the fluffy treat while watching the fireworks up on the hill. With a wide grin on his face, the American ran off to the booth, skidding to a stop at the end of the moderately long line. His brother watched him, shaking his head back and forth with a smile as Al nearly rammed into the person in front of him. He may have grown up since they were young, but there still was a part of him that was so childlike.

The Canadian's thoughts were interrupted as someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around to find Ramón. "Oh, hi!" Matt greeted his friend, surprised to see him. "What's up?"

Nervously fiddling with the fabric of his pockets, Ramón replied, "Oh, nothing much. Just enjoying the fair. You?"

"Same." Matthew watched as the Cuban popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Ooh, can I have a piece?"

Ramón tilted his head to the side as he chewed. "I don't think you'd like it. It has nicotine in it. You can't even blow bubbles with this stuff."

"No way, you're quitting?" Matt asked, violet eyes wide with wonder. "Good for you! Good for your lungs!"

At this, Ramón laughed. "Well, I'm not free of it yet, so don't get your hopes up. And it'll take forever to get the smell of smoke out my clothes."

"Well, that's true," his friend remarked, thinking of how much he hated that scent. It reminded him far too much of his dad's cooking…and Alfred's, now that he thought about it. Still, he never understood how people could stand smoking, especially since tobacco was a proven health risk.

"Anyway," the Cuban began, "there's something I want to talk to you about, but it's pretty personal. Can we go somewhere private?"

Matthew looked over to his brother, who was still waiting in line. "I don't know. Once Al gets his cotton candy, we're heading over to the hill for the fireworks."

"Don't worry; it'll only take a few minutes. I just really need to get this off my chest."

"Well," Matt spoke, glancing over to Alfred before returning his attention to his friend, "if it's that important, then I guess it's okay."

Ramón grinned, scanning the grounds for a private place to talk as he fiddled with one of his black dreads. Farther down was the row of empty booth clothed in darkness, shrouded from the leering eyes of others by curtain-like tarp flaps. "Do you mind if we go in there? I don't want someone to overhear us."

An alarm immediately went off in Matthew's head as it registered the clandestine tents, remembering how Al had seen it as a private place to hook up, but he tried to silence it. Yet, his brother's words ran through his head, along with images of irises, both warning him to stay away.

Matthew's brow furrowed as he reminded himself that Ramón had never done anything to him. If Al felt there was something off about him, then he was going to have to explain himself before Mattie would listen. Otherwise, he had no reason to doubt his friend.

"S-Sure, that's fine," the Canadian answered, mentally slapping himself for stuttering.

The two strolled off to the booths through the throng of festive people, sparklers crackling and star-spangled banners wavering in the light breeze all around. As they came closer to the stand and farther from the lighting of the fair, Matthew noticed the minimal light provided by the moon outside paired with a single faltering streetlamp.

"S-So, what did you need to talk about?" Matt inquired as they entered one of the tents, trying to ignore the few discarded condoms and wrappers on the ground. It looked like Al wasn't the only one to perceive the tent as make-out central.

Ramón ground his shoe into the dirt, biting the inside of his cheek as he decided on what to say. Above all else, he needed to be smooth and confident. "All right, so we've been friends for a while now, but I want to take this to another level."

Matthew stared at him, his violet eyes dilating as he thought, _Oh no. Oh fucking no, Ram__ó__n did not just say that. He doesn't mean what I think he does, right?_

Just in case he was wrong, Matt hesitantly asked, "…D-Do you mean, like, dating?"

The Cuban nodded, noticing the way his friend blushed and shyly looked away. Really, Matt was too cute, too _innocent _for his own good.

Matthew sighed, ruffling his blonde waves as he tried to find the right words. The only thing he knew was that he had to let his friend down easy. "I-I'm flattered, Ramón," the flustered Canadian began, as he had never rejected someone before, "b-but I can't return your feelings."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that.

"Matt, come on," Ramón pleaded, pinning the boy against the side of the tent with dark hands. "I like you. At least go on a date with me. Then you can decide whether or not you want me." He didn't care how desperate he sounded; there was no way he was going to let the Canadian reject him.

_Shit, what am I supposed to do? _Matthew thought as he stared into the intimidating brown eyes of his suitor, the slightest hint of fear beginning to instill in him. _I can't say that I'm already in a relationship, but he might press me even if I just say I'm interested in someone else. Shit!_

Just then, Matthew's cell phone rang, and he'd never been more relieved for a distraction. "S-Sorry," he stuttered as he wriggled out from the Cuban's hands to pull his phone out of his pocket, eyes widening when he saw Alfred was calling. Already sure that this wasn't going to end well, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. "A-Al?"

Twirling his bag of cotton candy on his finger, the American inquired, "Mattie, where'd you go? Don't tell me you went to the hill to watch the fireworks without me! You said you'd wait!"

"Tell him that's what you did," Ramón demanded, trying to keep his voice quiet enough so that Alfred wouldn't hear him.

"Stay out of it!" Matt hissed, ineffectively covering the phone in an attempt to stop his brother from overhearing their conversation.

"Mattie, who are you talking to?"

"N-No one!" the Canadian denied, wanting to punch himself in the gut for how unconvincing his tone was. From the silence on the other end, it was obvious he wasn't fooling anyone.

"…Who are you talking to?"

"Don't tell him," Ramón commanded, wanting Al to just leave them alone so he could persuade Matt to at least go on a date with him before turning him down.

This time, Alfred recognized the voice of the person conversing with his boyfriend, and it sent rage coursing through every vein in his body.

"Get away from him," the American growled, looking around to try to figure out where they were. This wasn't good. This was _not_ good.

Matthew flinched, the ferocity in his lover's voice accentuated by the reception. "A-Al-"

"Where are you?" Alfred asked, his blue eyes frantically scanning the area as the crowds diminished, the people heading off to the fireworks. No answer. "Matthew, you tell me where you are!"

Ramón rolled his eyes and snatched his friend's phone. "Matt, don't tell him. Come on, let's leave and go on a date."

Stressed out and a bit infuriated, Matthew tore his cell phone from the Cuban's hand. What was wrong with him today? "Al, we're in one of those stands they're not using."

Alfred's heart nearly stopped when he heard that, his gaze switching to the darkened section of tents farther down the grounds, a single streetlamp outlining the figures of the stands. Running toward the area, he demanded, "Listen to me, Matthew, you stay right there, you stay on the phone, and let me tell you, if that bastard has even touched a hair on your head, I'm going to murder him, dismember his rotten corpse, and throw the parts into the middle of the oil spill."

"Al, he hasn't done anything to me." Well, that wasn't exactly the truth considering Ramón _had_ kind of pinned him to the tent-flaps in an attempt to get him to revoke his rejection, but it wasn't like he molested him or anything. "He's my friend."

"Damn right he hasn't, and he's not going to if I have anything to say about it. Hold on, I'm almost there."

The Canadian sighed, biting his lip as he worried about the bloodbath that was bound to ensue, but there wasn't much else he could do except wait for Al like he was supposed to.

"Matt, come on," Ramón entreated, "let's get just go somewhere."

Within twenty seconds, pounding feet neared the booth, Alfred's familiar voice shouting, "Matthew?"

"We're in this one!" his brother replied as Ramón slapped a hand to his forehead, wishing they'd gotten out of there while they could.

Alfred ran inside, panting as he caught his breath. "Y-You…" he growled at Ramón, blue eyes blazing as he shut his cell phone and stuffed it in his jeans pocket, "get away from my brother."

Ignoring the demand, the Cuban stated, "I _told_ you to keep an eye on him. Shows how much of a competitor you are."

"'Competitor'?" Matt inquired, thoroughly baffled. "'Keep an eye on him'? Al, what's he talking about?"

Taking in a deep breath, Al decided it was time to break the news to his brother…and to set his rival straight. "Mattie, he's been trying to get into your pants since April."

Ramón draped an arm around Matt's shoulder. "Really? If I'm correct, that was you." Hoping that would fill his friend with utter revulsion, he continued, "Matt and I were about to go on a date, so get lost and go screw someone that's not in your family."

Matthew shimmied out from under the Cuban's arm and walked over to his brother, starting to feel uncomfortable. "Ramón, I told you, I'm flattered, but I'm not interested."

_Something's wrong with this picture_, Ramón thought. The average guy would be pretty bothered if he found out his brother had the hots for him. So why wasn't Matt freaking out?

"Sorry," Alfred informed his rival, dropping his bag of cotton candy to the ground, "but my Mattie's not on the market." With that, he pinned his boyfriend to the side of the tent and leaned in dangerously close.

"Wait, Al, he's right there-" was all Mattie got out before his lover smashed their lips together, Alfred happily taking the opportunity to thrust his tongue through the opening created from Matt's gasp.

Violet irises wide, the Canadian did all in his power to refrain from glancing over at Ramón lest he humiliate himself further. His eyes snapped shut once Al found his tongue and tangoed with it, making it difficult to keep in his whimpers. When Alfred pressed their crotches together, Matt couldn't help but break the kiss to moan, his face flushing with desire.

The Cuban's stood there in shock as the first crack of the fireworks show sounded. _You've got to be kidding me_, he thought, his mouth gaping open. The Canadian…actually reciprocated his brother's feelings…and now the two of them were making out right in front of him. How long he had been courting someone that was already taken, he didn't know, but Al hadn't even bother to tell him. For all he knew, it could have been a losing battle from the start. Even worse, he'd actually started developing feelings for Matt.

Determined to mark his lover so Ramón would back off, Alfred trailed kisses down the curve of his boyfriend's neck, suckling the skin hard enough to leave love bites. Matthew reluctantly pushed the American away as his brain took over, his body rushing with lust and mortification. He couldn't look his friend in the eye after he saw all of that, so Matt just stared at the ground as he caught his breath, tears stinging his eyes.

"There you have it," Alfred announced, grabbing his brother's wrist as he glared at his enemy. "Mattie doesn't like you. He's in love with me and there's nothing you can do about that." For extra measure, he kicked the discarded bag of cotton candy toward Ramón. "Take it. It's not much compensation for your loss, but maybe now you'll know what it feels like to be played for a fool."

With that, the American pulled his boyfriend out of the tent and stormed away, leaving his enemy to dwell on his defeat.

Now that the fireworks had started, the festival area was fairly empty, but Matthew knew his brother would wait until they were out of earshot from anyone else to start yelling at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Alfred snapped as he jerked his lover away from the fair grounds as explosions of light filled the sky. "No, you know what; I don't even want to _know_ what you were thinking. I have a pretty good idea of what you were thinking because you _weren't_ thinking."

"Well, what the hell were _you_ thinking?" Matthew countered, the firm grip on his wrist starting to hurt as he held back tears. "You started making out with me right in front of him! What if he tells someone? Our lives could be ruined because-"

The American cut him off, explaining, "It wouldn't do him any good to tell anyone, so he won't. Besides, even if he did, no one would believe him."

"Still, you humiliated me! He was right there!"

"Oh, sorry, Mattie. Didn't know you cared so much about what he thought." Taking a few shaky breaths, Al asked with his voice cracking, "What, are you going to leave me, too? Just like Jenna did?"

Sensing the pain in his boyfriend's voice, Matt cried, "Al, I love _you_! You know that I wouldn't have done anything with him!"

"Of _course _I know you wouldn't have done anything!" the American replied, but his lover's words were of no comfort to him. "That doesn't mean _he_ wouldn't have!"

"Al, are you serious? He's my friend and he just wanted to tell me his feelings! Just because he wants to go on a date with me doesn't make him a rapist!"

"Mattie, you don't know him! God, this would be so much easier if you would just listen to me and stay away from that bastard!"

The Canadian's frustration only grew until he snapped, deciding that this was the last straw. "You know what; I'm fucking sick of this."

Finally, Mattie was seeing his way. "Glad we're on the same page. Just stop hanging out with him and-"

"No, Al," Matthew interrupted him, "I'm fucking sick of your vague little warnings. For God's sake, you're not an iris! You can speak!"

Iris? Confused, Alfred asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Quit fucking around! You have no right to tell me to stay away from him when you don't even give me a reason why! I've had enough of you dodging my questions, so just tell me already! You have a mouth, so how about you put it to some good use?"

"No," the American refused, pulling harder on his boyfriend's wrist as they crossed the road. "You know I hate him and he hates me, and that's all you need to know."

"Don't give me that shit!" Matt shouted, trying to break out of his brother's grasp. "For months, you've been going on and on about how you hate him and how he hurt you, but you won't go into the details! Then you expect me to listen to you? Why should I? Why _fucking_ should I when you won't even give me a reason?"

Alfred stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his brother, the familiar sting burning in his eyes. "I _gave_ you a reason! I told you he's a fucking bastard who only cares about scoring and that you should stay away from him unless you _want_ to get hurt! Why can't you accept that? Why are you so bent on trying to reopen my wounds? In case you haven't noticed, I'm still healing!"

Tears welled up in the Canadian's eyes, as he hated shouting, hated fighting, but nothing else had gotten through to his lover. "Wh-Why can't you tell me? For G-God's sake, why can't you trust me?"

"…I don't want you to know how- how fucking _weak_ I am," Alfred admitted, turning around again as he was on the verge of breaking down. "I don't w-want you to s-see me like this…"

His heart breaking for him, the Canadian's violet eyes softened as he placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's o-okay. I told you, you don't always have to be the hero. Please, Al, you can t-tell me."

Al shook his head from side to side, gritting his teeth to suppress the words rising in his throat. _Please, Mattie, please don't do this to me…Don't make me say it…_

If not for the crackling of fireworks above the trees, there would have been complete silence. "Al, don't you clam up on me," Matthew demanded, grabbing his lover by the wrists and spinning him around so they were face to face. "ALFRED!"

"WE WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP!" Alfred screamed, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Matthew's grasp on him loosened in shock, and the American slumped down to the grass on the side of the road, sobbing with his head hung low.

It was out there now, hanging in the atmosphere, and Alfred couldn't take it back. Now, everything would have to come out. All of his efforts over the past year to block it from his mind would go to waste, back to square one.

After a few seconds, Matt knelt down in front of him, reaching out to place a comforting arm around him, but Al swatted it away. "Are you h-happy now, Mattie?" he asked, his tone bitter and pained. "A-Are you fucking h-h-happy n-now?"

The Canadian rested his hand on the ground, pebbles digging into his palm like the searing knives in his compassionate heart. "…Al, what happened?"

"I d-d-don't want t-to talk about it," Alfred refused, still clinging to his silence although he knew the battle was futile.

"Al, look at me."

"I d-don't want to."

"Alfred, _look_ at me."

"Pl-Please, Mattie," Alfred implored in a soft, broken voice, "I-I can't l-l-look at you...n-not when I'm l-like this…"

_If I look at you right now… _

"Alfred," Matthew addressed him, lightly cupping his face in the palms of his hands to force his lover to look at him.

_I'll see those eyes, those beautiful eyes of yours…_

"Tell me what happened."

…_And lose my resolve._

**. . .**

**(A/N: Sorry to leave it off there, but it would have been too long otherwise. And I just realized this story will be over in two more chapters. It might be more considering how I write more than I imagine, but count on two more.)**


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER XXIII**

July 5, 2009 -

_It was a little after eleven in the morning when my cell phone went off, and I wanted nothing more but for it to shut up and let me sleep._

_ I'd stayed up past midnight with my brother, Mattie, who was the best friend I could ever ask for. As was practically a tradition by now, we went to the Fourth of July festival together and watched the fireworks. Afterward, we came home to watch movies and talked until we were too tired to speak._

_ When I was a kid, I thought the world revolved around me, as most kids did, so I thought everyone was celebrating my birthday on Independence Day._

_ "That's not true," Mattie would tell me. "Why would they only celebrate yours?"_

_ "Because I'm the hero!" I'd say, shooting a fist into the sky as I struck my valiant pose. Mattie would roll his eyes and pout, and I swear, that pout was the cutest thing I'd ever seen._

_ I'd never admit it, and he'd never realize it, but Mattie was the center of my universe. The rest of the world took him for granted, and sometimes, I did too, but I always came right back to orbit aimlessly around him. As I grew older, I was convinced that the world was the moon, I was the earth, and he was the Sun: the fuel of my existence and the spark to send everything up in flames._

_ Groaning, I reached out to the side desk and swiped my cell phone, not even bothering to check the caller ID as I flipped it open. "…Who's calling?" I mumbled, groggy and irritated._

_ "Your girlfriend, Jenna. That ring a bell?"_

_ The sound of her voice brought a smile to my face, although I sensed the aggravation behind it. For her, that was normal: Jenna told it like it was, and if you didn't like it, she didn't care. That turned a lot of people off, but I saw the potential for adventure kindling inside of her. _

_ If you actually sat down to get to know her, dealt with all her biting sarcasm, you'd see how fun she was. She was one of the few people who would go along with my heroic escapades and really get into it, initiating a few of her own. Spending time with her was always a blast, a burst of energy through an otherwise boring week._

_ Sometimes, Jenna was too intense for me, and I wanted to slow down and take a breather. That didn't really work for her, for she was impatient, stubborn, and always on the move. But I didn't really mind as long as she was there._

_ Stretching my muscles to prepare for the day, I asked, "What's up?"_

_ "Alfred…we need to talk."_

_ My eyes shot wide open as my brain registered the undertones of those words. This wasn't happening. She couldn't be, she just _couldn't_._

_ I swallowed, a lump already forming in my throat as I inquired, "Wh-What do you want to talk about?"_

_ "Gee, I don't know, maybe we could start with why you didn't go to the festival with me?"_

_ The bite to her voice was accusatory and pissed off, far from the playfully sarcastic tone I was used to. "Jenna, I told you that I had other plans that night."_

_ "But what you _didn't_ tell me was that those plans were to go to the festival with your brother instead! Your fucking _brother_, Al!"_

_ "Don't talk about him like that," I warned her, a twinge of anger passing through me. "Everyone knows that I go to the fair with him every year, so I assumed you'd know. Sorry."_

_ "Sorry? Because you couldn't go, I went to the festival with my friends. Imagine my surprise when I see you there hanging out with Matt. What was I supposed to tell my friends? That my boyfriend chose his brother over me?"_

_ "Jenna-"_

_ "I know if you'd talked to him about it, Matt would've let you go with me, but obviously you didn't! I ended up humiliating myself in front of my friends thanks to you!" _

_ "You didn't _have_ to go the festival," I argued, feeling the rage building up inside as I struggled to keep it there. _

_ "And now you're trying to justify what you did? I can't believe you! For God's sake, Al, you're dating _me_, not him!"_

_ "Matthew is my _brother_!" I shouted, unable to hold back my anger any longer. "He's my brother, and if I want to go to the fair with him, I will! It doesn't have anything to do with you!"_

_ That was possibly the worst thing I could have said at that time, but I didn't care. She just didn't understand; no one did. Even I didn't understand why it was so important to me, but it was. The Fourth of July festival was _our_ thing, and I wouldn't let anyone take that away from us. _

_ "…You know what, Al? I'm really getting tired of this. This isn't the first time you've picked Matt over me. You've skipped dates for him, you've taken care of him when he's sick, but you've never done that for me. There are so many things you'd do for him that you would never do for me. What do you think that tells me about how you feel?"_

_ I sighed, rubbing at my aching temples. This was not how I wanted to spend my morning. "Jenna, you know how I feel."_

_ "No, Al, I don't. I have absolutely no idea how you feel. After all, most guys would jump at the chance to fuck their girlfriends, but you won't."_

_ I flinched at those words, feeling them wrap around my heart in an attempt to strangle it._

_ The one thing about her that rubbed me the wrong way was how casual she was with sex. Being one year my senior and quite the beauty, Jenna had already slept with other guys in short-winded relationships, and maybe even some one-night stands. When she found out I was still a virgin, her eyes lit up with a determination to fix that._

_ I told her over and over that I wasn't ready, but she kept pressuring me. Like I said before, she was stubborn, and as time went on, it pissed her off more and more that I wouldn't sleep with her. She'd call me a pussy and tell me to man up and screw her, as if I was less of a man because I was saving myself._

_ There were times when I thought I should just surrender and give myself over, but then I remembered the things my parents told me. They taught me that there was nothing wrong with wanting to have sex and there was nothing wrong with waiting to have sex. To give myself over to someone was a big deal, something I couldn't give to just anyone, and it was important to wait until I felt ready._

_ "So, how about it, Al? If you really care about me, then sleep with me."_

_ I loved her, at least I think I did, but I wasn't ready._

_ "…Jenna, I…I can't." _

_ In the aching silence that followed, I could hear her fuming breaths, shaky and melding with the sound of faint sniffling._

_ "I bet if Matt asked you to sleep with him, you w-would," she growled, her voice cracking._

_ I sat there in shock, unable to even wrap my mind around the idea. "J-Jenna-"_

_ "I-It's over, Al. Goodbye."_

_ With that, I heard the familiar click of the call's end, letting the phone slide off my palm and land on the blanket with a dull _thump_. Every nerve in my body, any sense of feeling went numb, like anesthesia for my heart, but I knew it would wear off and I would break down. _

_ I couldn't be here when that happened. _

_ Dropping down to the floor, I changed clothes with sluggish limbs, feeling lifeless as the shirt slipped over my torso. My plan was to leave the house and just walk, walk and hope the weatherman was right about the rain. Soaked to the bone as water hammered my skull, I could cry and no one would be able to tell the difference._

_ What I didn't plan for was to open my bedroom door and find Mattie standing right outside it. I guess I must have surprised him as much as he did me from the way he recoiled, nearly falling down on the floorboards. For a few seconds, I just stood there, unable to move or speak._

_ "I-I heard shouting…" he explained, gripping his arm as he looked away. Mattie had always been sensitive to what I was feeling, taking caution to never provoke me or make the situation worse. _

_ We may not have been related, but we had been together ever since we met at the orphanage. I was so young at the time that I can't remember anything from those days. The earliest memories I have are from after Dad and Papa adopted us, but by then, we were full-blown brothers. Growing up together gave Mattie plenty of time to learn my every tic, my every emotion, and if I wasn't careful, my every thought._

_ Looking up at me with those vulnerable, all-knowing eyes, my brother asked, "…I-Is everything okay?"_

_ Why, Mattie? Why would you ask me that when you already know the answer? _

_ I averted my gaze, copying him as I grasped my upper arm. "…No…no, not really. …J-Jenna just broke up with me." _

_ His face fell, and I knew that he felt my every ache as my heart began to choke inside my chest, the anesthesia of shock finally wearing off. "Al, I'm so sorry," he sympathized, pulling me into a tight hug. _

_ I wanted to blame him. More than anything else, I wanted to hate him. After all, if he hadn't existed, I would still be together with Jenna. My attention wouldn't be so unequally divided, even more, my love. _

_ Yet, I couldn't blame him. It wasn't his fault that he existed and it wasn't his fault that I loved him more than her. _

_ I couldn't hate Mattie if I tried. _

_ I've tried, God knows I've tried, but it's impossible. Even when we were kids, that one time when I shouted at him that I hated him and wished his mom had never left him at the orphanage, I didn't mean it. _

_ Still, it hurt him to hear me say that. I'm sure those words still stung after I apologized and told him I didn't mean it. When you're a kid, you don't realize how powerful your words are. Hell, most people don't even realize that by the time they're adults._

_ "It'll be okay, Al," Mattie softly assured me, and I couldn't even hate his words, words that messed me up and filled me with so many confusing emotions._

_ A part of me wanted to cry into his shoulder as soothing fingers ran through my hair; another part of me wanted to push him away and blame him, blame him for everything. _

_ What was left just didn't want him to see me so weak._

_ The first sting of tears came so quickly that I gasped, eyes wide as the drops glided down my cheeks. Shit, I couldn't control myself._

_ "Shhh…" Mattie consoled me, his fingertips finally finding their way to the back of my head. He gently stroked the strands of hair, traveling down to the nape of my neck as he traced patterns in the maze of straw. For a few minutes, I stood there crying, losing myself in the bittersweet warmth of his hold as my shame and self-hatred grew. God damn it, I was so _weak_. _

_ In an attempt to salvage whatever was left of my dignity, I broke away, rubbing at my eyes with the bare skin of my arm. "S-Sorry," I apologized, knowing it hurt him to be pushed away. "I just…I…I need to get out…clear my head."_

_ His violet-blue eyes swelled with my pain as he sighed. "…All right," Mattie conceded, respecting my wishes. "Just come back soon, okay? I'll cook up some pancakes, or maybe hamburgers, you know, whatever you'd like. We can watch a movie or something."_

_ I wanted to scream that I'd never come back and that he could just throw those pancakes and burgers in the trash; the movie too while he was at it. If it was Dad or Papa, I could've done that in a heartbeat._

_ But I couldn't say that to him; not when he was always there for me and never asked for anything in return._

_ …God, I'm such a despicable, selfish person. _

_ "O-Okay," I agreed, still sniffling as I trudged out the front door, feeling faint and languid. Much to my dismay, the overcast sky was without a hint of moisture, the clouds gray and swollen. _

_ I fucking hated those clouds._

_ Either the sky was sunny and dry or cloudy and wet. To have clouds without rain was a fucking copout. _

_ Fuck you, meteorology. _

_**. . .**_

_ I found myself in the park after some time, just meandering aimlessly along the path with leaden feet. The area was empty except for a few children playing on the swing sets and a skateboarder gliding down the trails at an impressive speed. _

_ Assured that no one was going to bother me, I flopped onto the ground like a discarded rag doll, my only company the blades of grass tickling my skin. For a while, I just lay there with a vacant look on my face, gazing into the clouds I hated so much as my mind went blank. _

_ Just as I was drifting off into a state of unfeeling, someone's shadow slowly crawled over the creases of my jeans. I glanced to my left to find the skateboarder I'd seen before standing next to me, looking at me with a natural curiosity._

_ I was sure I'd seen him around the school before with a group of Cubans smoking whatever shit they could find. He looked around my age, his skin dark like gingerbread, but carrying the scent of ashtrays instead of pleasant molasses. _

_ "Hey, you alive?" he asked, nudging my hip with his foot. _

_ "Do I _look_ like I'm alive?" I retorted, giving him the most vicious glare I could. Hey, I needed someone to take my problems out on and it was his fault for disturbing my sulking in the first place. _

_ My harsh tone didn't seem to faze him at all. "Now you do. I saw you collapse, but when I came over to check things out, you weren't moving at all. Your face looked so empty I figured you were either dead or high."_

_ "Wouldn't that be the icing on top of the cake," I muttered. "As you can see, I'm very much alive, so you can just go on your way and let me rot here, thank you very much."_

_ The Cuban raised an annoyed eyebrow before remarking, "Well, aren't _you_ a ball of sunshine."_

_ Finally, a bite of sarcasm. Maybe he was getting the message that I didn't want him around, and if he wasn't, a nice punch to the face would fix that. "You would be too if your girlfriend broke up with you the day after your birthday," I snapped, figuring I'd leave it at that. If he gave me any crap about it, I'd punch him, as simple as that._

_ To my surprise, he dropped his skateboard and sat down beside me, playing with one of the black dreads of his ponytail. "That's rough, buddy. What'd you do, cheat on her?"_

_ "Of course not! What the hell made you think that?"_

_ "That's usually why people break up," the Cuban commented with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "so I figured that was the reason." Pulling out a box of cigarettes, he lit one for himself and asked, "Want one?"_

_ "No," I declined, pushing the box out of my face. "I didn't cheat on her. I just cared more about my brother than her."_

_ He gave me this confused look as he smoked, taking a slow drag. "What's wrong with that? It's bros before hos. Everyone knows that."_

_ "I also refused to have sex with her."_

_ At this, he burst out laughing with such a volume that I flinched. "Y-You're joking, right?" he asked, the largest grin I'd ever seen spread across his face. _

_ "…No, I'm not."_

_ "Well, was she hot?"_

_ "She's no Megan Fox, but-"_

_ "So she's hot, wanted you to screw her, but you _didn't_?" The Cuban laughed even harder this time, but I didn't understand how that could be funny. At least my life was amusing for someone. "Man, what's wrong with you?"_

_ "You know, there are more important things in a relationship than sex," I asserted, folding my arms. "There's no rule that says I can't take my time."_

_ "Okay, either you're a virgin or gay."_

_ "Hey," I warned him in a firm tone, "I've got two dads, so if you've got a problem with gays-"_

_ "No, no, don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against gays. I just can't believe any straight guy would pass up the chance to bang his girl."_

_ "…I can't even count how many times I've passed her up on that," I thought aloud, rubbing my chin as I tried to piece the math together in my head, but it just wasn't clicking. _

_ He just stared at me with a smirk on his face, shaking his head back and forth before taking another drag. "What's your name?"_

_ "Alfred."_

_ "Alfred," he addressed me with an amused smile, "you are the strangest guy I've ever met."_

_ I chuckled, stating, "Then you've never met Feliks."_

_ "No, I know him. He's that cross-dresser from Poland, right? That's a whole 'nother category." _

_ "Good to know," I replied, the same grin he wore now displayed on my own face. Don't ask me why, but there was something about his smile that was so contagious, even more than the swine flu. "And what about you?"_

_ "Me?"_

_ "Yes, you. What's your name?"_

_ "Ram__ó__n," he answered in that suave voice, tugging a kink of his hair so that it sprung back in to place as he exhaled the pungent smoke. "Ram__ó__n Fernández."_

_ "Well, Se__ñ__or Fernández, I'd say you are the most sex-obsessed person I know, but no one can beat out my papa. After all, he's French." _

_ With that, he burst into a fit of hysterics and I joined him, rolling around in the grass as I clutched my ribs. You know, he really wasn't that bad of a guy, even if he was focused on sex. Most guys were too, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary._

_ "Alfred, there you are!" _

_ I turned my head to see Mattie running towards us, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. He stopped within inches of where we were, bending over as he tried to catch his breath, his blonde locks hanging in his face. "Al, where the hell have you been?" he cried. "I've been looking for you for an hour! You said you'd come back soon, but twenty minutes passed and you still weren't back…a-and you left your cell phone at home, so I…I was a-afraid…"_

_ In seconds, I realized he had thought I'd done something drastic, a pang of guilt aching in my chest. "Sh-Shit, I'm s-sorry," he apologized through his tears, "Y-You should be the one crying. Not m-me…"_

_ Getting up from the ground, I wrapped my arms around him in a comforting embrace. "No, Mattie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for scaring you like that. But you know I'd never…you know, do anything, right?"_

_ "I-I know, I just- just get so _worried_. …A-Are you feeling any better?"_

_ "Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better." It really warmed my heart to see him so concerned for me. At least there was someone in the world that still loved me. _

_ "Th-That's good," he stuttered, rubbing at his watery eyes like a tired child before resting his arms on my shoulders. "I-I made hamburgers while you w-were gone."_

_ I smiled, gripping the folds of the back of his t-shirt tighter as I told him, "You're too good to me. Come on, let's go home. We can watch a movie, like you said."_

_ I glanced over to Ram__ó__n, who was still lying in the grass as it swayed around him, the burning scent of smoke wafting in the air. "Hey, would you like to meet here tomorrow?" I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to see him again._

_ He looked at me and shrugged, that complacent yet charming grin catching my eye. "Sure, I've got nothing better to do." Grabbing his skateboard and throwing it to the path, he put out his cigarette on the ground and jumped on. "See you," he said before riding away and out of sight._

_ Mattie frowned, picking up the discarded cigarette and throwing it in the trash. As we walked back to the house, he asked me, "Al, who was that?" _

_ "Oh, just a friend," I replied, waving it off as it was nothing important, but that was a lie._

_ If anything had good come out of this day, it was meeting Ram__ó__n. _

**. . .**

"At least I thought so at the time," Alfred remarked, hugging his knees to his chest as his lover stroked his back in soothing circles.

Matthew simply gazed at him, shocked by how much his brother had hid from him that summer. _I didn't know any of that_, he thought, taking in the weary stare of his boyfriend's blue eyes toward the grass lining the road. Although he remembered there was a guy at the park with Al on the day Jenna broke up with him, and he knew Al spent a lot of the summer hanging out with Ramón, he'd never put two and two together.

"…What happened after that?"

Sinking lower into the crevasse between his bent torso and legs, the American explained, "We would hang out at the park and talk, sharing little tidbits here and there about our lives. We formed a quick but strong friendship…and it soon turned into something more."

Suddenly, Alfred tore away from his lover and shifted over on the curb, leaving Mattie baffled and somewhat hurt. "A-Al, what's wrong?"

"People are coming," he murmured in his broken voice.

Surprised, Matt listened for the sound of footsteps, finally noticing that the fireworks had ended. Crowds of people were now leaving the grounds along the roads, chatting loudly as they returned home. Although most of them traveled on the opposite side of the road, a few stragglers here and there coasted along their side instead. All were within earshot of the two brothers, so they kept their mouths shut.

"I'll continue as soon as they're gone," Alfred assured his lover, staring vacantly into the asphalt as the memories tossed like swells of ocean waves throughout his head. Sighing, Matthew watched the people laughing with each other, wondering how they could just walk by, so oblivious to the inner turmoil his brother was going through.

More than anything, he wondered how he'd been one of them less than an hour before.

_**. . .**_

**(A/N: Okay, so I know I said two more chapters, but as I expected, these scenes were longer than I imagined. I didn't want a 7,000-word chapter, so the flashbacks will be continued in the next chapter. That means there are two more chapters after this week. Some of you have been asking what I'm doing after this story ends. I do have more ideas for fics, so you will be seeing more from me. My basic plan for the summer is on my profile, so check that out if you're interested.)**


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER XXIV**

July 19, 2009 -

_ After Jenna broke up with me, it was hard for me to turn to Mattie when I needed someone to talk to. I was so afraid I'd break down in front of him again, and that was something I couldn't let happen. God dammit, I was the hero, and a hero can't show weakness no matter what. I just couldn't take those eyes, how they saw right through me and unconsciously forced the tears down my cheeks. My heart was on full display, suppressed in shrink-wrap as every muscle tensed and throbbed under his gentle gaze. _

_ Ram__ó__n's eyes were different: a warm brown that didn't look farther than I wanted them to. He didn't have a problem listening to me, and soon I found myself going to him for everything. Never taking sides, he analyzed the situation from both perspectives. Although he was blunt and matter-of-fact, he never lied. Ram__ó__n was a close friend I could confide in and expect an honest, unbiased response from. Sometimes, he was sympathetic; other times, he told me to grow a pair and get over it._

_ I really appreciated that._

_ Most of my summer was spent hanging out with Ram__ó__n in the park, just lying down in the grass and talking. Other times, we'd go to his house because his dad never came home until late, so we had the place to ourselves. From what I learned, Ram__ó__n didn't get along well with his father, who was more than happy to support his nicotine addiction. He didn't really like to talk about himself or his home life, so I respected that and didn't press. In our conversations, it was mostly him asking questions and me answering, but I didn't mind. _

_ "So what's it like having two dads?" he inquired one day as I was trying to beat my paddleball record of ten hits. _

_ "What do you mean?" I asked, concentrating on the violent smack of the ball against the wood._

_ Ram__ó__n shrugged, his arms behind his head. "Is it any different from having a mom and a dad?"_

_ "…I don't really know the difference between a mom and a dad," I admitted, grimacing as the string stretched past the paddle and struck me in the nose. "When I was a kid, I'd watch TV and the mom would always tuck in her kid, read him a bedtime story, kiss him goodnight, wish him sweet dreams…"_

_ I trailed off, getting lost in the reminiscence of my childhood as the elastic strand of my paddleball hung limp. "But both of my dads did that. They held us when we cried and kissed our bruises and cuts. Of course, Papa was better at it since Dad's never been good with emotions or PDA, but…I don't really think they have set roles. They're just…my dads. I don't know how else to describe them."_

_ With that, I went back to trying to break my record, but I lost control after only three hits. "Shit!"_

_ "You're doing it too hard," he commented, extending his brown fingers to me. "Here, let me show you." _

_ I reluctantly passed it over and he began to swat the ball, easily surpassing my record of ten consecutive hits. "Must be nice to have parents that love you."_

_ "Don't be like that," I told him, lying down as I played with a blade of grass. "I'm sure yours love you."_

_ Ram__ó__n just shook his head back and forth, a bitter smirk wavering on his face. "…So, what do they expect out of you?"_

_ "Ram__ó__n, you've got to be more specific when you ask me stuff." _

_ "Your sexuality," he clarified, looking me in the eye. "Surely they've had a role in it, right?"_

_ "Well, yeah, I guess. They've taught me not to discriminate and that whatever I'm attracted to is perfectly normal."_

_ At this, he nodded, the rhythm of the paddleball the only sound beside the rustling grass. "That's cool. So what are you?"_

_I took a minute to examine myself, pensively rubbing my chin pensively. "I'm not sure. I mean, I've only been into girls, so I know I like them, but…I guess I _could_ be attracted to a guy. It's not like it…grosses me out or anything."_

_ "I get what you mean."_

_ "Really?"_

_ "Yeah. Just the other day, I fucked this guy _hard_ into the mattress. Pretty good fuck. Didn't stick around to find out if he'd be able to walk after that, but I have a feeling he made do."_

_ His laid-back words made me squirm a bit, although I was more or less used to it by now. The only thing about him that really rubbed me the wrong way was, like with Jenna, his casual opinion of sex. "Did you at least learn his name?"_

_ "Why should I? It was just a hookup, no strings attached."_

_ "Well, whose name did you…you know, shout out then?"_

_ "Ronald McDonald's."_

_ I don't think I'd ever laughed as hard in my life as I got a really unwanted mental image of Ram__ó__n fucking the Mickey D's mascot. "My god, that's sick."_

_ Giving me that suave grin of his as he chuckled, he continued, "Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is why limit yourself to only half the human race?"_

_ "It's not limiting yourself if you're not attracted to it," I corrected him. "You can't make yourself like something you don't."_

_ "True," Ram__ó__n conceded, putting down the paddleball after enough consecutive hits to put my record to serious shame. "Not everyone can be like that. What about your brother?"_

_ Blinking in confusion, I asked, "What about him?"_

_ "Is he into guys?"_

_ "…I don't know," I answered, putting a finger to my lip as I contemplated the possibility. "I've never asked him and he's never gone out with anyone, so I don't even know if he's into girls."_

_ "Come on, you must have _some _inkling of what he is."_

_ "What, are you interested in my brother?"_

_ "Well, from what I remember, he _is_ cute."_

_ "Oh, and I'm _not_?" I joked, raising a suggestive eyebrow._

_ With that teasing smirk spread across his face, I knew I'd walked right into his trap. "Exactly."_

_ "Bastard!" I shouted playfully, tackling him to the ground as he cracked up. We wrestled in the field, laughing and fighting for dominance over the other. Pinned to the grass, I tried to struggle out of his grasp, but he had my wrists trapped. Our laughter slowly tapered off as I realized exactly what kind of situation I was in. _

_ There I was, pinned down, panting hard, and staring straight into the brown eyes of my rather good-looking friend, who was hovering over me. Ram__ó__n must have noticed this, too, as I saw the slight blush on his face. Crap, now my own cheeks were flaring up. _

_ In light of the awkward situation, he let go of my wrists and we shuffled about a foot away from each other. Trying to find something else to focus on, I grabbed the paddleball and started up again, determined to break my record. This time, the ball slapped the wood once more than my previous score before it snapped back and collided with my cheek. "Ha! Eleven!"_

_ Ram__ó__n flashed an amused grin, shaking his head from side to side as he chuckled warmly._

**. . .**

August 3, 2009 -

_ Jenna was still a touchy subject a month after the breakup, but I was getting over her. Between hanging out with my brother and friends, I didn't have much time to sit around moping, which was a good thing. Being a socially active teenager made it easier to forget about her and focus on the people still by my side._

_ The summer began dwindling away, and soon enough, school was starting in a few August days. From what I knew, I didn't have any classes with Jenna, which made sense considering she was a year ahead of me and our electives were different. It's funny how when our schedules first came in, I was disappointed that we weren't in anything together, and now I was thanking God for that like never before. Running into her in the hallways would be inevitable, though, but I figured I'd just have to ignore her and hope she'd do the same. _

_ With the summer clock ticking down, I was determined to make the best of whatever was left of it by cramming in as much fun as I could. That was my plan today as I ran into my brother's room and shouted, "Mattie, let's go to the mall! That new video game comes out today!" _

_ Looking up from his book as he lay on the bed, he asked, "Which one?"_

_ "You know, that one…with the title…and the zombies."_

_ "You don't even know the name of it, do you?"_

_ "Hey, all I need to know is that it's about blowing up zombies." _

_ He groaned, throwing his head back. "Can't you go by yourself? I want to finish my book."_

_ "You can read in the car!"_

_ "I'll get carsick."_

_ "Come on, Mattie, please?" I begged, clasping my hands together. "Please, please, please, please, _please_?"_

_ My grin only widened as Mattie sighed, a clear sign he was caving. "Fine," he gave in, slipping a bookmark into the spine to mark his place. "But don't expect me to play it with you when we get back. You always scream and cling to me, which makes it really difficult to shoot the zombies, you know that?"_

_ "Then I'll just have to stay up late and play it by myself until I'm so freaked out I can't sleep. I'm going to end up screaming and clinging to you no matter what, so would you like it now or later?"_

_ Smirking, he taunted, "I'm locking my door tonight."_

_ "If you do," I joked, "I'll get my chainsaw and chop it down."_

_ Mattie rolled his eyes as we walked into the garage. "All right, all right, we'll play it when we get back. …So, who's driving?"_

_ "Me," I declared, twirling the keys on my finger before shoving the correct one into the ignition. As he climbed into the passenger seat, Mattie made sure I was watching as he buckled himself in, pulling as tightly as he could on the straps to secure them. "Oh, come on, I'm not a bad driver!"_

_ "I didn't say anything."_

_ "Your actions say enough!" Really, he had no idea how awesome my mad driving skills were. Shaking my head back and forth, I declared, "Just you wait. I'm gonna get my motorcycle license and then I'll take you for a ride so you can see just how much of an awesome driver I am."_

_ "Al, I don't know…" he whined, pouting slightly. "What if I fall off?"_

_ "You're not gonna fall off! And even if you did, you'd have a helmet and jacket on, so you wouldn't get hurt _that_ much. But you're not going to, so don't even worry about it."_

_ Mattie just sighed, knowing I would get my way eventually._

_ The mall was twenty minutes away by car without traffic and by the time we got there, the parking lots were nearly packed to the brim. This led to plenty of swearing, flipping people off, and battling for the non-handicapped spaces closest to the entrances._

_ After beating out some poor sucker for the perfect spot, we strolled into the heart of the mall. There I realized I'd completely forgotten the location of everything minus the food court. "Crap, where's the _GameStop_?" I wondered aloud, tracing my fingers over the colorful map. _

_ "It's on the second floor near _JC Penney_," someone told me._

_ "Oh, thanks-"_

_ My words cut off like a gunshot as I looked up from the map in the direction of the male voice. I recognized the jock from school, but he wasn't the one I was focusing on. No, what caught my attention was the girl holding his hand…the same way she'd held mine just a month ago. _

_ Jenna bore her seething green eyes into me as she leaned against the guy's toned body. "What a surprise," she remarked, her painfully sarcastic voice pricking me full of holes. "You're at the mall with your brother."_

_ I froze, trying to speak, at least say _something_, but my slightly parted lips were working against me._

_ Clearly confused, the jock asked, "Jenna, you know this guy?"_

_ "…Come on, John," she demanded, dragging him away as her long brown hair billowed out behind her. "Let's go." _

_ For a while, I watched my former flame storm away with her new man, feeling as if I'd just been slapped in the face. That same shock from the moment she broke up with me came surging back, leaving me numb and sluggish._

_ "…Al, are you okay?" _

_ I didn't even bother answering, staring straight on ahead in an attempt to resist the urge to look at him. There wasn't any need for him to ask me that. In fact, it was downright redundant for him to ask me a question he already knew the answer to. _

_ Flinching at the light brush of his fingertips on my arm, I averted my eyes to the floor. "…We can come back another day if you want. It'll still be here tomorrow, you know."_

_ "…Yeah," I agreed, staring at the dull color of the tiles. "Yeah, let's…let's just go home." Mattie put a comforting arm around me and took us back out the doors, knowing I wasn't in the mood for killing zombies anymore. Switching seats for the ride back, my brother stuck the key in the ignition and we were off._

_ On the way home, I sat there, lifeless, just gazing at the blurs of speeding cars. Occasionally, I'd look to the sky, already knowing what I would find: fucking gray clouds, just like always. Some amount of time passed, exactly how long, I have no idea, but I soon realized we were somewhat close to _his_ neighborhood. "M-Mattie?"_

_ "What is it?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a second to assure me he was listening. _

_ "Could…could you take me to a friend's house? I just noticed we're around where he lives and…"_

_ I trailed off, looking to the hurt expression spilling over his face. "…Al, you know you can tell me anything, right?"_

_ I wish I could. God, Mattie, I wish I could._

_ "…Please, don't worry about me." _

_ His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, a white tint forming on his knuckles. "You know what it sounds like when you say things like that."_

_ "Mattie, I'm not suicidal! I just- I just…"_

_ "You just _what_?"_

_ "I just can't be here right now!" I shouted, throwing my frustrated hands up in the air before bringing them to my aching forehead. By 'here', I meant near him. With my brother in the car, it was suddenly too small a space, and if I had to spend another second in it, I'd either cry or blow up at him._

_ Mattie sighed, staring at the road with a resistance that was slowly crumbling. "…Where does he live?" _

_ "…Thistle Street. It's a little farther down. Turn there and the house will be the third on the right." My brother nodded and reluctantly followed my instructions, slowing down as we approached the correct home. Unbuckling my seatbelt as the car crept to a stop, I thrust the door open and said, "I promise I'll be back in an hour or two."_

_ "Al."_

_ I froze with one foot out the door, without a choice as I glanced over my shoulder and looked into violet eyes that saw right through me. At that moment, I knew he was going to say something that would tear me up inside. "Wh-What?"_

_ "I love you."_

_ …It hurt. I don't know why, but it just _hurt_ to know he loved me._

_ "…I love you too, Mattie," I replied, reaching over to hug him quickly before slamming the car door shut and walking away. It was too abrupt, I knew it, but I wasn't about to turn around and lose my resolve._

_ Hurrying up the sidewalk, I pressed the doorbell and waited for the sound of footsteps. Soon, Ram__ó__n opened the door, as usual, a cigarette in his mouth. "Oh, hey," he greeted me with a charismatic smile._

_ "Hey. Can I come in?"_

_ "Sure, Dad's not gonna be home for a while." Taking a look behind me, his brow furrowed. "Is that your brother in the car? Does he want to come in, too?" _

_ I shook my head, knowing Mattie wouldn't leave until I was inside. "N-No, he's just dropping me off."_

_ "Uh huh," he murmured in a tone that knew something was wrong. "Well, come on in."_

_ I gladly entered and he closed the door behind me. As we walked into the living room, I heard the car pull away, a twinge of guilt resonating in my chest. _

_ Plopping down on the couch as he smoked, Ram__ó__n inquired, "All right, what happened? You get in a fight with your brother?"_

_ "M-Maybe," I told him, taking a seat on the cushions. "I'm not sure. I…I went to the mall with Mattie and…we ran into Jenna."_

_ Ram__ó__n whistled, shaking his head so that the dreads of his ponytail swung back and forth. "Ouch."_

_ "And she was there with a guy."_

_ "Double ouch, man."_

_ "She saw me and said, 'What a surprise. You're at the mall with your brother.' …And _I_ knew what she meant by that, but no one else did."_

_ "You never told Matt why she broke up with you?"_

_ "I don't want him to think it's his fault," I explained, stroking the skin of my forehead. "I want to blame him for it, but I know it's not his fault. It's…it's _mine_."_

_ Tapping his cigarette on the side of an ashtray before putting it out, Ram__ó__n stated, "From what I know, you really dote on him."_

_ "I do," I admitted. "I really do, but I just…I can't confide in him sometimes. It's not that I don't trust him, but it…it _hurts. _It hurts when he worries about me, when he comforts me…I just…I don't know."_

_ "Do you feel like you don't deserve it?"_

_ "I-In a way, yeah, but I really just don't know. …I knew he was going to try to comfort me once we got home, and I- I just couldn't take it. S-So I asked him to bring me here and we sort of got into a fight about it and then…and then he told me he loved me. It just hurts when he says things like that. All it does is remind me that- that Jenna broke up with me b-because I love my brother so much."_

_ "Did you tell him that?"_

_ "N-No. All I said was, 'Love you too, Mattie,' and slammed the door. …H-He probably hates me now, or he thinks I hate him, or maybe h-he's beating himself up over it, or…or…or…"_

_ "…Al, you're crying."_

_ I hadn't even noticed the tears gliding down my cheeks. My breath caught up quick, shuddering like an airplane in turbulence. "God d-dammit," I cursed, rubbing at my leaking eyes, "I came here so that I _w-wouldn't_ break down…"_

_ Feeling a hand cup my jaw, I looked up through my tears, and before I knew it, his chapped lips meshed with my own. It shocked me enough to stop the flow of tears, the taste of charred ash strangely calming. When he parted, I pulled him back into the kiss, needing someone…anyone...anyone at all._

_ Ram__ó__n wasn't right for me…I knew that from the way he treated his past lovers…but he would do right now. _

**. . .**

"After that," Alfred explained, "we decided to go out together. For the first few months, it was really great. There were little flirts here and there, you know, suggestions, but he never pushed anything. But one day, he started really pressuring me…just like Jenna did.

"I couldn't believe he was doing that to me after all I'd told him about Jenna. I refused, told him I wasn't ready for that. He backed off for a while, but he kept coming back and pressuring me. I-In September, he…he threatened to break up with me and go sleep with someone else. I-I panicked. I was afraid it was going to become a cycle. I didn't want to keep losing people just because I didn't sleep with them, s-so…I…I…"

Unable to finish his sentence with how ashamed he was, the American shut his mouth, hugging his knees closer to his chest. At the same time, his brother's irises dilated as it hit him.

"Al," Matthew addressed him, slowly rubbing his back, "I…I can't believe I just realized this, but when we…made love, you said that you lost your virginity to- to _Jenna_. God, I'd completely forgotten, but now…now you're saying you didn't and that it…it was with…"

"…I knew something was off from the start," Alfred continued, cutting in so that his boyfriend wouldn't have a chance to finish that thought. "He wanted to go to a hotel. A f-fucking hotel. Why do people go…go to a hotel if they're not on vacation? …F-For a quick fuck with no strings attached."

"Al…"

"You can't rent a hotel room unless you're eighteen, so his dad had to do it for us and sign paperwork stating he was responsible for anything we did there, you know, stupid legal stuff. His dad was way too lax with that, like he'd done it a million times before. A-And it was a prepaid room, so he could just…leave at any time he wanted and leave the check out to…to me when I woke up."

"…Al, did you even…want to do that with him?"

The lost look in Al's eyes said more than any amount of words could. "…I don't even think I loved him."

**. . .**

**(A/N: The final flashback will commence in the next chapter, which will be the last, so tune in next week for the conclusion!)**


	25. Chapter 25

**(A/N: Okay, so in writing this chapter, once again, it went longer than I planned, so instead of putting you guys through an over 8,000-word chapter, I'm breaking it into two. I feel so bad for leading you guys on. I absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent SWEAR that the next chapter will be the last. I've already written most of it and I'm working on the end right now, so I hope to have it up before next Sunday, but no guarantee.)**

**CHAPTER XXV**

September 12, 2009 -

_ Waking up alone was the worst feeling in the world, without a shred of body heat…without my innocence…without a single reminder that someone loved me._

_My cell phone was ringing, and I groaned at how familiar this felt, like I was going to go through the morning after my birthday all over again. That illusion soon disappeared as I noticed my surroundings: a crappy motel room with rough bed sheets. God, I couldn't even remember what town I was in. Flipping open my cell, I asked, "Hello?"_

_ No answer. Confused, I looked to the screen and realized it wasn't a call. Someone had set an alarm. Well, I sure didn't remember doing that, so it had to be Ram__ó__n. _

…_Where was he?_

_ The thought registered in my mind for the first time as I glanced around the room, the lingering smell of smoke the only proof that another person had been there at all. Grabbing my glasses from the side desk and slipping them on, the blocks of red bars on the clock went from blurry to a definite 10:42 in the morning. _

_ On the same table was a notepad, the black ink in the grooves of words dug deep into the hotel paper. Dread sinking into the deepest pit of my gut, I already had a feeling of what it would say as I picked it up and read it aloud._

_ "Check out time is at eleven. Drop the keys off at the front desk."_

_ …I knew it._

_ Wrapping a blanket around my naked body, I made my way over to the windows, grimacing at the sharp twinge in my ass. Ram__ó__n had been impatient and rough the night before, barely taking any time to prepare me. I peeled the very edge of the curtain back, gazing blankly at the puddles forming in the parking space where his car should have been. _

_ If he hadn't cared enough to make sure I wouldn't get hurt, how could I have expected him to still be there in the morning? _

_ I'd known something was off about it from the start. Ram__ó__n treated lovers like disposable cameras: creating snapshot memories and throwing them in the trash once he'd gotten what he wanted. I knew what would happen to me, but I still went through with it on the off chance that he truly loved me, that I meant something to him._

_ I guess I was wrong._

_ Stepping into the crumpled boxers on the floor, I dressed myself with slow, trembling fingers, numb to anything but the dull throb of my heart. I dragged myself into the bathroom, glancing toward the mirror for a few seconds to get an idea of what I looked like. With mussed blonde hair, wrinkled clothes, and an obvious hickey on my neck, others might've seen a hot mess, but all I saw was a poor sucker who wanted nothing but to crawl in a hole and die. I sighed and buttoned the collar of my polo high enough to hide the bruised skin, which wasn't too hard since it was on the base of my neck._

_ There were foam cups on the counter, enwrapped in a plastic bag with a twist-tie. I undid the band and let the cups spill out, remembering that there was a storm outside. I didn't want my cell phone to get wet and die on me. After securing my phone inside the bag, I tied it back up and stuffed it in my pocket._

_ With both key cards in hand, I left the room for the last time, trudging down the hallway to the elevator. Just staying on my feet was a chore as I tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing the button for the main floor. The doors closed and I felt the elevator sink, as if the whole world had collapsed and swallowed me up._

_ Two floors down, I stepped out into the lobby, making my way to the front desk. "Hello," a receptionist greeted me, her friendly smile irritating and unwanted. "Are you checking out?"_

_ "Yeah. Um, here are the room keys. The room was…the room was prepaid. R-Room 216."_

_ "All right, let me check that information."_

_ Interrupting her, I asked, "Um…I'm sorry, but could you tell me where I am?"_

_ As I stood there, self-conscious of my messy appearance, I could feel all of the receptionists' eyes on me. They exchanged glances with each other, as if they'd seen the same scene unfold thousands of times with a different leading lady every time. _

_ "Uh, sure," she agreed. "Right now, you're in Summerville. We're close to the interstate, so you can get wherever you need to from here. Here, take a map."_

_ I noticed the laminated texture, mumbling a quick "Thanks" as I took it from her and stuffed it in my pocket. At least it wouldn't get wet and fall apart. _

_ "Okay, everything checks out. Did you enjoy your stay?"_

_ I couldn't believe it; she actually had the _nerve_ to ask me that. "…I think you know just how _much_ I enjoyed my stay," I retorted in a low, unstable tone. Confirming my suspicions that this was a common occurrence from the way she averted her gaze, I muttered, "H-Have a nice day," and began to walk away._

_ "Sir, wait." Taking pity on me, the woman pulled an umbrella out from behind the desk. "Here. You wouldn't want to catch a cold."_

_ "D-Don't tell me what I want," I snapped, storming off into the downpour without the umbrella, thank you very much. Just as I'd imagined, the rain streaming down my face masked the tears as I stood still for a few seconds, the soothing pitter-patter of water drops against pavement all I could focus on._

_ God, I'd waited so long for this. _

_ Leaving the hotel parking lot, I started following the road back to the interstate. Every sopping step sent a shooting pain up my spine, reminding me of what I'd done, what he'd done, the whole fucking fiasco. I couldn't get over how fucking stupid I was._

_ Where was I even going? It wasn't like I could walk back to my house, but no way in hell was I hitchhiking. That was how serial killers got their victims. Glancing to the cell phone bulging in my pocket, I decided I had to call someone, someone who would drive me back without pressing me for details. _

_ There was only one person I could think of who would._

_ Going back to the hotel was out of the question, so I continued along until I found a gas station, which only took about ten, fifteen minutes, give or take. I walked past the vehicles filling up with fuel and entered the convenience store, pulling out the map and my plastic bag-clad cell phone. Wiping the water off my glasses, I opened up the map to figure out what street I was on before going through my contacts and pressing 'call'. It rang a few times before going through._

_ "Hello?" _

_ "Ivan? It's…it's Alfred."_

_ "Ah, Alfred, it is good to hear from you. You do not sound too well. Something is wrong?"_

_ "Y-Yeah. Look, I'm stranded at a gas station in Summerville. It's a Kangaroo Express on… oh, that's US-17. It's right off the interstate. …C-Could you come and get me?"_

_ "I do not see why not. That is about a half hour from here, da? I will be there promptly."_

_ I sighed in relief. "Ivan…thank you. Oh, and you might want to bring some towels. I…I got caught in the rain."_

_ "Will do. And it is no problem at all. I will see you soon."_

_ Hanging up, I dropped the phone in the bag and tied it back up, slipping it into my pocket along with the map. Now, I had to kill thirty minutes inside a convenience store. Turning to anything that would keep my mind off of my problems, I looked to the slush machines, watching the soggy ice slosh round and round in an endless cycle. _

_ It's amazing how entertaining that can be, almost as much as being at a Laundromat, as I ended up staring at the machines for a good half hour. The only thing to knock me out of my trance was a text from Ivan telling me he was outside in his car. Making my way back outside, I spotted his black Volga and walked over, noticing the sweet but dangerous smile on his face. It faded into a curious pout once he got a closer look at me. Still, he kept his mouth shut and didn't question me as I climbed in and sat on the towel on the passenger seat._

_ "I'm sorry if you had trouble finding your way here."_

_ "Do not be," Ivan asserted. "It was actually quite simple with the help of this GPS. So, do you have any particular destination in mind?"_

_ Running fingers through the hair plastered to my forehead, I murmured, "Home. Please, just take me home."_

_ He nodded and put the car in reverse, heading to the interstate. The drive back was quiet, aside from the small tune Ivan was humming under his breath. My mind wandered as I stared at the window, wondering what I was going to do when I got home. It was a Saturday, so my parents wouldn't be home until later, but Mattie would. _

_ God, how could I even face him knowing that I'd practically thrown my virginity in the trash? _

_ Thirty minutes passed quick. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even realize we'd made it back to town until my house came into view, deeming it a safe haven even as I dreaded walking inside. As we pulled to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open. "Thank you for the ride."_

_ "I am glad to be of assistance. Would you like an umbrella?"_

_ "No, no, I'm good. I'm already wet, so it doesn't really matter. …Ivan?"_

_ "Do not worry," he assured me, beating me to it. "I will not tell anyone about today."_

_ "…Thank you." _

_ Smiling, Ivan waved it off. "It is not a problem. Oh, and Alfred?"_

_ "Yes?"_

_ "This will not happen again, da?" he asked in a tone that sounded threatening, but the inquisitive concern in his violet eyes told me otherwise._

_ "…I hope not, Ivan," I told him, shaking my head back and forth as I lightly closed the car door. "I really fucking hope not."_

_ Shrugging his broad shoulders as he seemed to accept my answer, Ivan put the car in drive and was on his way. I watched his Volga for a few seconds more before trudging through the rain and up the porch steps, hoping the front door wasn't locked. Just my luck, it was and I didn't have my keys with me._

_ I sighed, knowing I didn't have a choice. Knocking light but firm on the wood, I waited until I heard his footsteps across the floor. When Mattie looked out the glass, I saw him gasp and quickly open up the door._

_ "Al, why are you all wet?" he asked, his eyes scanning over my wet body. "Don't tell me you walked home in the rain. If he couldn't drop you off, I could've come to get you."_

_ I didn't say anything, my eyes focused on the floor as I stepped inside, the water trickling out of my drenched clothes and onto the rug. _

_ "Look at you," Mattie remarked, placing his hands on his hips. "Stay right there." He ran up the stairs, leaving me there as he got a towel, I guess. Hurrying back down, he continued, "I was wondering when you were coming back. I mean, it's past noon. So, how'd the sleepover go?"_

_ Right, I'd told my family I was sleeping over Ram__ó__n's house. Thinking back on it, that would've been a much better idea. If we had been at his house, he couldn't have just left in the morning. But that was beside the point: in his mind, the relationship ended once he scored._

_ I clenched my fists tight enough to make them tremble, the familiar burning in my eyes. Would it have killed him to at least say goodbye?_

_ Coming closer, Mattie held out the towel for me to take, but I didn't bother. Instead, he draped the soft cloth over my soaked hair and I couldn't stop myself from looking up into his worried eyes, like a miserable dog that had done something bad. "…Al, what's wrong?" he asked, my grief reflected in his violet irises._

_ I was too tired to deal with any of this, to deal with the aching in my chest and the tightness of my throat. There was no way I could tell him all that happened, not if I wanted to keep whatever shred of dignity I had left, but I had to say _something_. Deciding to get it over with, I opened my mouth and confessed what I could. "…He and I…we're…we're not friends anymore. He was nice at first, real nice, but not anymore. He's a total bastard. …T-Total fucking b-b-bastard…"_

_ Even with a vague explanation like that, I couldn't stop my chest from aching…my throat from constricting…my tears from falling…_

_ "Come here," Mattie spoke softly, pulling me into his warm embrace as I cried, his empathy so sincere and welcome. "It'll be okay, Al." _

_ It would've been so easy to trace the trail back to him and blame him for indirectly causing everything that had happened to me, but I didn't want to. For the first time in a long time, I didn't want to blame him and I didn't want to hate him. _

_ I just wanted to be loved._

_ I was sick of running off to someone else for comfort when I had a loving person right in front of me all along; one who was more than willing to treat my wounds instead of create more. With my brother's arms wrapped tight around me, I knew there was someone who still loved me, the only one who mattered. "Come on," Mattie offered, letting go to wipe away my tears with his gentle fingers, "let's get you dried off. You wouldn't want to catch a cold." _

_ I nodded, my hand extended for him to take and lead to the ends of the earth, just as long as he loved me. After all, Mattie was the center of my universe._

_ Maybe, someday, I could be his._

Alfred sighed, his blue eyes tired from reliving so much pain that night. "Any questions?"

Taking it all in, Matthew chose his words carefully, deciding to start off slow. "…Why does _he_ hate you?"

"…I guess it's because I fought back. On Monday, I walked into school and…and I saw him smoking it up with those Cubans, just acting like everything was normal. …I was so mad. I was so f-fucking mad. How could he just…just… I couldn't take it. So, I went over there and beat the crap out of him. I kept my mouth shut about him u-using me like that, I _had_ to for my sake, but I w-wasn't going to take that shit l-lying down, and I made sure he knew that."

"So _that's_ what happened," Matt thought aloud, remembering the scuffle from earlier in the year.

"Also, I keyed his car."

"…You _what_?"

"I snuck over to his house in the middle of the night and keyed his car. Nice words, too, like 'whore', 'bastard', 'slut', 'fucker'…each one three times over. He couldn't prove it was me, but he knew. That bastard knew, and that was what mattered. Maybe he'd think twice before…before using someone again."

Sighing, the Canadian decided not to scold his brother. It wasn't right, but he couldn't say it wasn't justified. After what Ramón had done to Alfred…God, it was so hard to believe it, but there was no way that Al was lying. He couldn't be with the pained way he spoke of it…with the ailing blue of his eyes.

God, it made him so mad. Both of them, Jenna and Ramón, tried forcing him to give up his virginity…How could they do that to him?

"Al…what they did…it's terrible… It's downright fucking terrible. Why couldn't you tell me?"

"…I feel weak enough around you as it is," Alfred answered, digging his fingernails into the denim of his jeans. "I-It hurts just talking about it, like I'm g-going through it all over again. I didn't want you to feel like any of it was your fault because it's _not_. I was the stupid one. I knew what happened with his relationships, but I thought I was different, like I could change him or something. Hero complex, brother complex, I'm just full of complexes, aren't I?"

Matt smoothed soothing circles in his lover's back, reasoning, "Everyone has some sort of complex. I mean, I have a brother complex, too. Complexes are just a part of who we are. Without them, we wouldn't be together…I wouldn't have been able to give myself over to you…I….wouldn't have been able to love you."

"…Mattie, when I fell for you," the American admitted, "it wasn't even a question of 'should I' or 'shouldn't I'. I just wanted to rip my heart out of my chest and give it to you. I was completely ready to hand everything over, my mind, my body, _anything_ you wanted from me because I love you. I didn't want to pressure you, so when you wanted to sleep with me, I was afraid you were doing it for my sake. That's why I was so anal about making sure you were ready and wanted it. I just didn't want you to regret it.

"With Ramón…I wasn't ready. When I went out with him, I was still hung up over Jenna. I was hurt, desperate to feel like someone loved me, and he took advantage of that. I gave him what he wanted, thinking it would strengthen our relationship, and then he…he just _left_."

Starting to tear up, Alfred continued, "…Mattie, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish I'd saved myself…f-for someone that actually…l-l-loved me…" Breaking down for the second time that night, although it felt like so many more, Al mumbled through his tears, "N-Not a fucking d-day that I don't wish I'd g-given it to you…"

The Canadian reached out to stroke his lover's cheek, lightly brushing his fingertips over flesh slick with tears. Al flinched under his touch, eyes wide with fear. "Alfred…" his brother breathed, caressing the curve of his face.

Losing whatever was left of the resolve he was desperately clinging to, the American clutched the hand and nuzzled into it, sobbing harder as he lost all control. "Why?" he asked, his whole body convulsing in rhythm with each choked breath. "Why do you m-mess me up like th-this? I-I hate feeling like this! I hate l-letting you see me s-so weak!"

"It's okay," Matt assured him, grasping the back of his brother's head, fingers roaming through the golden threads. His other hand dug deep in the creases of his brother's shirt as he pulled him closer into his embrace. "I swear, it's okay. Cling to me, cry on my shoulder, whatever you need, but just _love _me."

Pulling back to look into his lover's eyes, Alfred asked, "…Wh-What?"

"Please, Al," he begged, leaving a lingering kiss on his boyfriend's lips, "love me. To give me your everything, to let down your defenses and let me inside…isn't that what it means to love?"

Taking in his words, Alfred collapsed onto his brother's chest and cried. "I-I love you, M-Mattie. I-I do."

"I love you too, Al. That's why it hurts me to see you try to handle it all on your own. No one can keep on like that for long. When you keep everything inside…doesn't it just hurt more?" The American continued crying, giving his lover quick nods. "Yeah, it does. You know it does."

"B-But I have to- to keep it in. If I d-don't, I feel so w-weak. I u-used to be able to keep it a-all inside, I mean, I feel weak just t-_talking_ about th-this."

"You may feel like that, but you're not, Al. You're strong."

"Mattie, d-do you see m-me?" Alfred asked him. "I-I'm a f-fucking _wreck_. H-How do you think I-I'm strong?"

"You're strong because you're starting to let me take some of the baggage off your hands," Matthew explained, running fond fingers through his lover's hair. "Al, hiding it all inside is what's making you weak. That's how you get tunnel vision. You start thinking you have to carry everything on your shoulders and that relying on others is weak. But that's not true."

Al shook his head back and forth on his brother's shirt, staining it with tears and mucus. "M-Mattie, I wish I c-could believe that. I r-really do."

The Canadian gazed at him with tenderly violet eyes, deciding to take another approach. "All right, let me make an example. Say you're in school and there's a problem you don't know how to solve. You know that you've got a teacher and a ton of other students you could ask for help, but doing that would be admitting you can't do it on your own. So you try to do it by yourself and you're just getting more and more lost in the problem. It's going to get worse and harder as you go along until you admit you can't do it and get help from someone. That's when you know you're strong."

Sniffling, Alfred lifted his head off his boyfriend's chest. "…S-So, I'm strong?"

"Yes, Al, you're strong. There's nothing wrong with letting go and letting me in. From now on, come to me when you're hurting, okay? Promise me that?"

Wiping away the last of his tears, Al looked his brother straight in the eye as he nodded his head. "O-Okay. I promise." Matthew sighed in relief, smiling as he pulled his lover into a tight embrace. That was all he needed to hear.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER XXVI**

Matthew carefully opened the front door of their house, pulling out the key from the lock before tiptoeing inside. It was somewhat difficult to move while supporting Al, who was emotionally exhausted after letting everything out, but he managed. Quietly making their way upstairs, the brothers walked into Alfred's room and all but collapsed on the bed. Matt wrapped his arms around Alfred, listening to the faint sound of even breaths in and out. His brother had been through a lot in the past hours, so he deserved a good night's rest enveloped in his lover's hold.

The two slept well that night, and as the week went on, Alfred opened up about the confrontations between him and Ramón in April and on the night of their birthday party. The more Matthew learned, the more it became clear to him that he really _didn't_ know the Cuban as he thought…and that something had to be done. At the same time, the situation was complicated and sensitive, enough so that a part of him wanted to let sleeping dogs lie, but he just couldn't.

That was how he found himself a few days later, flipping pancakes off a greasy griddle and onto a plate with a trembling spatula. Glancing toward the clock every now and then, he tapped his foot on the floor, getting anxious. The garage was open and ready for action, but that didn't mean he was any less nervous.

After setting his plan into place, a plan he would consider a borderline sin in his brother's book, the Canadian was waiting for the chaos to unfold. The only problem was that Al wasn't downstairs yet and it was almost noon. Walking up the stairs, Matthew made his way into his brother's room to find him still in bed. "Wake up, Al," he spoke softly, shaking the sleeping lump. "It's time to get up." Alfred just groaned.

Rolling his eyes, Matt hesitantly leaned over and licked the soft lobe poking out from under the tuft of blonde hair. His lover immediately began squirming in the sheets, giggling until he broke into full-out laughter. "Ha ha, stop! That t-tickles! Ha ha ha, c-cut it out!"

The Canadian continued to nibble and lick the other's ear, breathing in a sing-song voice, "Only if you get up."

"All right, all right," Al conceded, sitting up in bed to get away from his brother's tongue. "I'm up, I'm up."

"Good, now get dressed. I made pancakes."

Stretching his arms above his head, Alfred declined, "Nah, I don't feel like it. Why don't we have breakfast in bed?"

Matthew pouted with his hands on his hips, knowing that if his plan had any chance of working, Al would need clothes on. He always slept naked and no way in hell was that presentable attire. "I-It's already on the table."

"Come on, Mattie, we could try that whipped cream and strawberry thing and eat off each other's body. We could use maple syrup, if you want."

"Al-"

"Come _on_," the American insisted as he hauled his brother onto the bed, locking down on his waist. "Let's at least have some fun."

"A-Al!

"Are our parents home?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then why not?" Alfred asked as he coated a finger in saliva and snaked it under his lover's shorts, gliding over the curve of his backside until he found his entrance. Smirking, he watched as Mattie moaned from the playful rubbing on his pursed hole. "See? You like that."

Matthew tried to ignore it, but the small stretches and pressure were already turning him on. "_Aaah_, _ah_, the p-pancakes are gonna…gonna…_haa_…g-get cold…"

"The pancakes can wait." Slipping the finger inside, Al let it wander around as he tried to find his boyfriend's prostate. As he brushed over it, Matthew let out a soft mewl, throwing his head back from the pleasure. The electric sparks coursing through his spine were starting to get to him, Al's finger curled up inside of him.

"M-More," he whispered, flicking his tongue against his lover's lips to convince him to hurry up and give him the good stuff quick. The faster he came, the faster they could get downstairs.

Contemplating where to take this, Al suggested, "All right, how about I blow you while I touch your sweet spot?"

"Um, j-just the blow job, but, um, I-I want to see you…you…t-touch yourself," Matt shyly admitted, figuring they'd save time if they came together. Besides, he'd always wanted to see his lover masturbate, although it was embarrassing to tell him that. Just thinking about it was sending tingles down his rock-hard cock.

Alfred shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "Works for me."

Lifting his lower body off the bed, the Canadian undid his zipper, a bit of precum already soaking through his boxers as he shoved them off his needy erection. Al pulled out his finger and hopped onto the floor, letting Mattie situate himself on the edge of the bed. Slinking closer, he grabbed the base of his boyfriend's dick and swept his tongue over the slit to test the waters. When Matthew whimpered, the American felt his own cock twitch in response. Alfred smirked as he took his arousal in his hand, delighted with how he could look up at his lover's face to see every pleasured contortion.

Starting to pump himself, Alfred pursed his lips and enveloped the other's tip. They pushed and pulled over the hard flesh, keeping the pressure nice and tight as his finger traced the pulsing vein up and down his shaft. Matt's body shivered from the slick tongue that played with him on every sucking motion, the puff of air that Al would occasionally blow, the way his brother gasped around his cock from touching himself.

Alfred's mouth loosened its hold as he thumbed the underside of his head, moaning against his boyfriend's. "_Ahhh_, _ah_, A-Al…" the Canadian mewled, his hips instinctively bucking at the hot breath mingling with sound waves. Wanting to cum as soon as possible, he led Al's hand to his sack, flinching as the fingertips caressed the loose skin. "_Nnh_, h-here. T-Touch me here…"

Al nodded, bobbing his lover's cock in his mouth as he carefully rolled the balls between his fingers. He tried to give everything equal attention, which was difficult since he wasn't the best at multitasking, but Mattie was loving every sensual touch. Glancing down through half-lidded eyes, Matthew took in the arousal on Al's face from every stroke, feeling the familiar thrum of contractions set on. Soon he was releasing, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Swallowing before he took his lips off with a slick _pop_, the American increased the pace of his hand, his breathing shaky as he knew he was close, but not yet there. "L-Let me help," Matthew offered, sliding off the bed and slipping Al's dick past his lips, applying the same sucking pressure as his brother had done for him. Groaning from the wet warmth engulfing his cock, Alfred thrust up into his mouth, imagining he was pounding into Mattie's tight ass. "_A-Ahhh_!" Alfred cried, thighs shaking as the semen spurt from his slit.

Riding out the last of his orgasm, Al rolled his hips a few more times before settling down, smiling in the afterglow. Matt downed the other's cum, a shiver running through him as he regarded the taste. The two tried to catch their breath, savoring the serene satisfaction of their climaxes, but for Matthew, it was short-lived. He grabbed his underwear and shorts off the bed and pulled them back on, zipping up with anxious fingers. "C-Can we go eat breakfast now?"

Pouting, his brother wondered why he was so persistent about getting breakfast. "Are you sure?"

"Please, I just- I just want to get breakfast," the Canadian tried to persuade him, but the crack in his voice only proved he was getting worked up.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

"N-No, no, it's just…" Matthew trailed off as he sniffled, ruffling a few locks of his blonde hair before looking his lover in the eye. "You'll always love me, right? No matter what I do?"

Lightly gripping the other's arms, Alfred assured him, "Mattie, of course. Why? What'd you do?"

"N-Nothing," he denied. "I just…I just need to hear that sometimes."

"Come here," the American said, pulling his boyfriend closer in his hold. "Mmm, I'm always gonna love you. No matter what you do. I promise."

_That just makes me feel worse for doing this_, Matthew thought, taking in the comforting scent of his brother. There was a high chance his idea would crash and burn, only succeeding in wounding Alfred further, but he had to try. Things had to get worse before they got better.

Smiling amiably, Al suggested, "Look, how about you go downstairs and get the food ready while I get dressed, okay? I wouldn't want all your hard work to go to waste."

"O-Okay." Matt stood up from the floor and slipped out the door, daintily making his way down the stairs one step at a time. Turning into the kitchen, he took a plate of buttermilk pancakes and sat at the table, munching away as he tried to calm down despite his anxiety. Within a few minutes, Alfred was sliding down the banister, landing on his own two feet once he met the floor. Clicking his tongue, Matt chastised, "Papa doesn't like it when you do that."

The American chuckled as he strolled into the kitchen, teasing, "Not you too! Next you'll be giving me 'the talk' and cooking snails for dinner." His brother elbowed him in the side, only making him laugh harder. As he picked up a plate of the delicious breakfast, Al pecked his lover on the cheek. "Thanks for cooking, Mattie. I'd do it myself, but you know me. I'd just burn down the house."

"And then we'd _still_ have to pay the mortgage," Matthew spoke wistfully, waving his fork through the air.

"Yep. Hey, can you pass me the maple syrup?"

Mattie stuck out his tongue. "Get it yourself, Captain America. You're a hero and that's what heroes do, after all: get the maple syrup."

Rolling his blue eyes, Al mumbled, "Whatever, you Mountie," as he walked over and stole the maple syrup. He took it back to his place at the table where his pancakes hungrily awaited the amber rain.

When someone knocked on the door leading to the garage, the Canadian nearly jumped, having almost forgotten about the plan. Looking up from his meal, Alfred wondered aloud, "Didn't Dad and Papa go to work? Who could that be?"

"N-No idea," he lied, every step toward the garage prompting his heart to pound faster. There was no turning back as Matthew twisted the knob and yanked it open. The moment Al saw who was waiting behind the door, he almost choked on his food, a helpless anger rising in his chest.

"What are you doing here?" the American demanded to know, his tone furious and accusatory.

Ramón looked to his friend; at least he _hoped_ they were still friends after the Fourth of July incident. After a week without contact, Matt had called him up all of a sudden and invited him over, so he assumed they were, but now he wasn't so sure. "…Matt, you said he wouldn't be here."

Feigning innocence, Matthew remarked, "D-Did I? Well, since you're already here, you wouldn't have a problem staying for a bit, now would you?"

Throwing his fork down on the plate with a violent clatter, Al asserted, "I have a problem with that."

"So do I."

"Great, sit right on down," Matt insisted, dragging the Cuban across the tile and forcing him into a chair opposite his brother. Taking a seat in between the two, Matthew clasped his hands together and looked to both of them. Al was considering fight or flight, his arms crossed tight under his chest as he glared at the pancakes on the table. In a similar condition, Ramón kept his eyes on the door, wondering if he could make a break for the exit. As Matt looked at him, he tried to suppress his own fury, wondering how anyone could be so heartless.

"Matthew," Al addressed his lover in a tone that warned him he was stepping on a _very_ thin line, "what the hell is going on? Why is he here?"

The Canadian exchanged glances with the two before deciding to divulge. "…You guys are here to have a heart-to-heart."

"No," Alfred muttered, not so much a denial but a statement of hurt disbelief. "No, Mattie, you are _not_ doing this to me. You're _not_."

Ramón shook his head, gripping his dark bicep tighter. "No way, Matt. This isn't an episode of Dr. Phil."

His brow creased, Matt stressed, "That wasn't a suggestion. Look, Ramón, I…I know what happened between you and Al."

"You _told_ him?" the Cuban shouted, sending his seething brown eyes in Al's direction.

"You think I wanted to?" Alfred retorted. "You really think I _wanted_ to tell him that I dated a bastard like you?"

"Really? You liked me at the time."

"That was before you forced my hand."

"I did not-"

"No, you _forced_ my _hand_!" Alfred yelled, jumping up from his seat as he pointed an accusing finger toward his ex-lover. "I wasn't over Jenna when I went out with you, and instead of waiting for me to be ready, you demanded that I sleep with you!"

Seeing how things were starting to get out of control, Matthew held up his hands defensively. "G-Guys, let's just calm-"

"You could've said 'no'!" Ramón interrupted, slamming his palm on the thick wood of the table as he stood up.

"Oh, do _not_ play that card with me!"

"Alfred, who's playing cards-"

"I _said_ 'no' fifty fucking times and you didn't _care_!"

"Do _not_ act like you are some rape victim, Al! You agreed to it and if you wanted to stop, you could've pushed me off, you could've screamed for help, but you didn't!"

"You know very well that I couldn't do _ANY_ of that!"

"AND WHY IS THAT?"

"BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE!"

Matthew hid his face in his hands, starting to regret his idea of bringing them together to talk things out. God, this had to be the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing he could do at this point. He had to let the fight burn out on its own.

"…I had sex with you," Alfred admitted in a strained tone, "because you said you would leave if I didn't…and I didn't want to lose someone else. B-But you left anyway. When I woke up, I was all alone. I had to go d-down to the lobby…and- and hand over the k-keys…while they all l-looked at me and they knew, Ramón, they _knew_. Do you have any idea how- how _humiliating_ that was? Do you?"

Ramón slowly shook his head 'no', choosing to stare down at his sneakers as he sat back down. He grimaced, wondering where that strange high he usually got from seeing the American hurt had gone, replaced by a bit of remorse that viciously gnawed on him.

"I c-come into school on Monday and y-you're laughing it up with your druggie friends! You're acting like n-nothing happened, like it meant nothing t-to you! Y-You didn't even c-_care_!"

Hysterical at this point, Al tugged at his mop of hair as he cried, "I hate you, o-okay? I fucking h-_hate_ you! I'm mad at myself, I'm f-fucking _ashamed_ of how stupid I was, a-and it's your fault! I told you everything, I trusted you, I fucking _slept_ with you, and you just _left_! Do you even care? D-Do you even fucking _care_?"

Distraught and clutching his scalp as he wept, Alfred slumped back into his chair and murmured weakly, "N-No, you d-don't…you d-don't care…you don't…"

Matthew gazed at his brother with pangs of guilt, hating to see him so distressed and to be the one to bring him into this situation, but it had to be done. "…What do you have to say to that?" he asked Ramón.

Looking in his direction, Ramón snapped, "Matt, what do you want from me? He's telling the truth, whether I like it or not."

"Explain yourself," Matthew ordered. "You owe that to him."

"D-Don't even bother, Mattie," Alfred told him. "It's not gonna change a-anything. I hate him and he h-hates me."

"I don't hate you."

"Oh, don't lie-"

"I'm not lying," the Cuban interrupted him, shutting his ex up right away. "I don't hate you, Al, at least not these days. I hate being near you. All you do is remind me of things I'd rather leave in the past, and I hate _that_."

The words hit close to home as Al sunk lower in his seat, knowing all too well what it was like to hate being near someone because of all the memories it stirred up.

At the same time, his brother was putting the puzzle together, finally getting an idea of what went on in Ramón's mind. Sure, the guy was cool and charming, but he had a sadistic side to him. It seemed that way from the piercing confrontations Al had discussed with him. People were who they were due to a mixture of nature and nurture, and there was someone Ramón hated to talk about; someone that Matthew bet played a large role in the Cuban's upbringing. With what he had learned over the past week, that someone was the final piece, clicking right into place to reveal the entire image to him.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, Matt casually twiddled his thumbs and pointed out, "…Speaking of things you'd rather leave in the past, how are things with your dad?"

He flinched immediately, a familiar pinch in his chest, one that arose whenever someone brought up his father. "F-Fine."

"Really?" the Canadian asked in a tone that told he knew otherwise. "I don't know, from what Al's told me, I get the feeling you don't really like your father. Why is that?"

Confused by the scene unfolding before him, Alfred glanced over to his lover. Just what he was hoping to accomplish with this line of questioning?

Ramón pulled his crossed arms closer to his body, wondering why this behavior was so familiar and…somewhat sickening. "That's none of your b-business."

"Let me guess: every day growing up, you saw your dad go through woman after woman. He was always at work, and if he wasn't, he was off with a mistress, so he never had any time for you. And if he did, he just took that time to put you down. You swore you'd never be like him, but you couldn't help yourself. You started hooking up with no strings attached. No one cared, so you figured it was okay, but then you started dating. Once they slept with you, you didn't know what to do but leave. After all, that's what your dad did. And you loved it when they fought back, getting all worked up over you dumping them. Having that control over them made you feel strong, but really, you're just a pathetic bully that has to sleep around and hurt others to fill the void in his life."

Ramón's mouth gaped open, the words cutting him right down to the bone, just like his father's. Sure, Matt had always been perceptive, but the way he used his words…they dug down deep and filled him with a burning hatred, but he was helpless to do anything.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Matthew provoked him with a slick smirk. "Hey, you know what they say: like father, like son."

"SHUT UP!" Ramón roared, gripping the edge of the table to stop himself from lunging at the Canadian. "Don't you _dare_ compare me to my father!"

"Oh, did I touch a nerve?" Matthew asked, his tone deceptively innocent. "Huh. Well, maybe you'll know how Al feels now. To have someone see right through him and jab every single nerve like it's a game. Hurts, doesn't it? Hurts more than a slap to the face or a punch to the jaw."

Ramón stared at him in incredulity, finally realizing whose behavior Matt was imitating: _his_. Revolted that he would mistake his own actions for his father's, he brought a hand to his mouth, as if he might throw up.

"So, should I keep going, or would you like to take it from here? After all, that can't be the only reason why your relationship is so strained. And I've noticed that you've never once talked about your mom."

The Cuban nervously chewed his chapped lips, wishing all his skeletons in the closet would just stay there. God, he really could use a smoke right now, but he didn't have a pack on him and he wasn't even sure if the nicotine gum would cut it. Figuring it was better than nothing, he took the gum out of his pocket with trembling fingers and popped a piece into his mouth. "Matt, don't make me do this. Really, I don't want to talk about this."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to up and go," Al argued, glaring into the depths his dark skin, "but we can't all get what we want in this world."

Ramón gripped a few of his black kinks as the guilt set in further, sighing as he gave in. "…Fine. You…you pretty much hit the nail on the head. My parents divorced when I was younger. My dad goes to work from six to nine, so I grew up either alone or in the care of one of his mistresses. Let me tell you, a lot of women have passed through my life thanks to him, so I've never really had a stable mother. I guess you could say I've never had a stable relationship with _anyone_, for that matter. I either hook up or stay until I get the sex, and then I'm gone. …God, I'm so much like my dad, it sickens me. It never used to bother me. Not until I got involved with you guys."

"Oh, poor baby," the American mocked him. "Never felt a lick of guilt in his life till now. The fucking _horror_."

"Look, I'm not trying to justify what I did, okay? I don't expect you guys to take pity on me. You wanted a reason for what I did, and I gave it to you. That's all I've got."

"Well, th-that's not enough."

"Al, what more do you want from me?"

"I want to h-hear it," Alfred demanded in a choked voice, his blue eyes fierce but hurting. "I want you t-to say _exactly_ what you d-did. I w-want to hear you apologize and I want it to be s-sincere."

"…Al, you're not serious," the Cuban said, reluctant to comply. To apologize would be to admit his actions were wrong and just like his father's; that was something he just didn't want to face.

However, Alfred wasn't letting him off the hook. "I w-want to hear it. Now."

Ramón sighed, wringing his hands with his brown eyes focused on the table. "…I…I took advantage of you," he admitted, forcing the words out past his gingerbread lips even though he wanted to stuff each one back down. "I…used you. I made you…fork over your virginity and then I left…without a goodbye. I've been a complete bastard, fucker, whore, slut…whatever else you wanted to carve into the paint of my car. What I did…was wrong and…a-and I'm sorry, Al."

"…You remembered the words," Alfred remarked, the slight notion strangely touching to him.

"Yeah, it's pretty easy since you keyed each word three times. Thick letters, too. A real bitch to fix."

"…If you want an apology for that, I'm not giving you one. I don't regret it."

"I know. I don't expect one."

They sat in an awkward silence with folded arms as Matthew observed them, none of them sure what to say next or where to go from there. "…Now, what?" Alfred muttered.

Standing up from his seat, the Cuban pushed the chair in and declared, "I think it's about time I go. It's clear I'm not wanted here. …Look, I'm not going to interfere with your relationship and I won't tell anyone, so don't worry about that."

Al scoffed. "You expect us to believe that? With all the scoring you do, I'd expect stealing boyfriends and girlfriends would be a favorite pastime-"

"My parents divorced because my dad cheated," Ramón cut him off, and for the first time, Alfred heard a twinge of pain in his voice. "They all blamed the cheap slut, but it's _his_ fault. If it hadn't been her, it would've been some other woman. He's the one who promised to love his wife forever and couldn't keep it. I know I'm a player, but there's one thing I won't do, and that's pursuing someone that's already taken. I don't care how much I want them; I'm not going to put someone through that. If nothing else, take my word on that."

He walked away from them before stopping at the garage door, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked over his shoulder. "…Al, I can't imagine you'd want to, but Matt…if you still want to be friends…"

The Canadian shook his head from side to side. "I-I can't. What you did…no matter what excuse you have, it was cruel. I couldn't."

Nodding morosely, he stated, "I understand."

"Ramón," Alfred addressed him, swallowing his pride. "Before…before any of this happened, I…I really did think of you as my friend."

Ramón's brown eyes grew with surprise, then slowly sunk back into regret. "…Goodbye." With that, the Cuban disappeared out the garage door, the wood falling back into place with a subtle click.

As the receding footsteps disappeared out of the garage, Alfred raised an eyebrow and tapped his finger on his upper arm, giving his lover a look that could only be described as unamused. "Matthew."

Said person flinched at the sound of his full first name, waiting for the wrath that was sure to unfold. For what he'd put Al through that day, he expected words of hatred and a demand that Matthew stay away from him for the rest of his life. "Y-Yeah?"

"That wasn't cool, Mattie. Not cool at all."

Matthew averted his eyes to the floor. "…I-I know. I'm sorry. Are…are you mad at me?" _Here it comes…_

"Of _course_ I'm mad," the American stressed. "You think I wouldn't be? Mattie, you threw me and my ex into a room with no preparation whatsoever and expected us to have a civil one-on-one. What the hell were you thinking?"

Taking a particular interest in his fingernails, Matt explained, "I-I thought it would help…talking things out…I-It's not like with you and Jenna. You guys never had any r-real closure…so…you know. A-And I know neither of you would've agreed if I told you, s-so…"

Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know you had good intentions, but please, don't ever put me through something like that again. That…that really wasn't cool."

As the Canadian slowly nodded, Al noticed he was being exceptionally timid, as if he could step on a landmine at any moment. "Come on," Alfred encouraged him with arms wide open. "Come here. I'm not _that_ mad."

Matthew eagerly accepted the invitation, gripping the creases of his boyfriend's shirt in their embrace. Hoping to break the tense atmosphere, Al cracked, "And if you do, at _least_ tell me ahead of time." Instead, he got a half-hearted chuckle. "Mattie, what's wrong? I swear I'm really not that mad."

"It's just…" Mattie murmured, pulling away to look his lover in the eye, "d-do you feel any better? Did it help at all?"

Alfred blinked, taking a few seconds to register the question and examine himself, surprised at what he found. "…Yeah, I…I don't know how to explain it."

The sensation running through his body was familiar, but at the same time, foreign. For the first time in a long time, Alfred felt like he could breathe, his rusted airways free from the crushing force of a heavy heart. Taking in a deep breath, he finally realized why his lover's compassion hurt so much more than the bitter slurs of others.

Jenna shot him full of holes with the trigger of her mouth. Ramón had let the bullet holes heal over before slowly slicing through the scars to make his own, striking a nerve with more intensity each time until he finally severed it. But Mattie was a surgeon, one without proper anesthesia, but a surgeon nonetheless. He reopened the wounds and dug through all the scar tissue one layer at a time to extract those bullets, stitch the nerve together, and sew him back up.

Surgeons were heroes.

Alfred laid his head on his lover's shoulder and grasped his hand, intertwining the thin fingers with his own. "You asked me earlier if I'd love you no matter what you did. Mattie, I love you. I still do."

Resting his head atop his brother's, Matthew stroked the soft skin of Al's hand in his. "I love you, too."

"But you've been a naughty boy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep, so I'm gonna have to punish you," the American teased, pulling his hand away to give his boyfriend a quick slap on the ass. Mattie squeaked, his face flushing as the other hauled him over his shoulder. "So, how about it?" Alfred asked. "Wanna take this to the bedroom?"

Using all the upper body strength he had, Matthew reached for his brother's shoulder and propped himself up so that their heads were side by side. "W-We still haven't cleaned up the pancakes."

"Come on," Alfred pleaded, his blue eyes sultry as he looked back at his boyfriend, "that can wait. I want to make love to you till you melt."

Blushing deeper as a small smile spread across his face, Matthew gave in. More than anything, he was relieved that his lover wasn't too mad at him. And it didn't hurt that they were going to have make-up sex. "All right, all right. Beam me up, Scotty."

"With pleasure, William Shatner."

"Oh, so I'm only Captain Kirk because I'm Canadian?"

"No, because you're the bottom," Al corrected him, patting his brother's fine backside. Fake gasping, Matt punched him in the arm as he was carried up the stairs, Alfred laughing all the while.

"Kirk could top if he wanted to!"

"Like Spock would let him. He'd get bitch-slapped again."

As the brothers entered Alfred's room, Mattie murmured, "Really, Al, you should be Kirk. After all you're the hero."

Gently laying him down on the bed, Al disagreed. "Hm, actually, I think _you're_ the hero."

Matthew was about to suggest that maybe they were both heroes when his lover pressed their lips together, exchanging words with sensual touches. That was okay; he already knew the truth. They were only human, subject to life's spectrum of pain and love, as humans should be.

**. . .**

Several months passed and the earth came to November, nearing the days of celebration for the harvest. As the school day ended, the Bonnefoy brothers walked out with some of their friends, relieved that the tedious Wednesday was over and the Thanksgiving break could begin.

"Thanksgiving must be amazing at your house," Kateryna remarked, her bust bouncing as they walked down the school's stairs.

"With a chef like Papa? You bet," Alfred boasted, his arm slung over his brother's shoulder. "It's like a feast. Enough food to feed an army and make you fat as hell. Mattie got the cooking genes from him, so whatever he cooks is just as good. Maybe even better."

Matthew grinned sweetly, fighting every urge to hold his hand and cuddle up next to him. After all, they were in public, in front of the school nonetheless. Instead, he opted for some brotherly teasing. "Well, it's easy to make good food if you don't burn everything you touch."

Clutching his heart in mock drama, Al cried, "Oh, Mattie, you wound me!"

"Alfred-san, I am sure there is something you can cook without burning it," Kiku assured him.

Matthew wagged his finger, adding, "Oh no, you don't know about the time he burned pasta."

"Be glad that Feliciano is not here right now, aru. He would start crying if he heard that, aru."

They all laughed until Yao screeched, his flat chest claimed from behind by the hands of a certain Korean. "Your turkey breasts belong to me!" Yong Soo declared, wiggling his fingers over the taut sweater as he imitated the bird's warbles.

"STOP IT, ARU!"

"Gobble gobble! Gobble gobble gobble!"

"Th-That's it, aru! You're not coming over tomorrow, aru!"

"What?" Yong Soo shouted, offended and close to tears. "B-But you already said I could spend Thanksgiving with you! Hey, where are you going? Yao? YAO!"

As Yong Soo chased after his love, Kiku calmly shook his head, his black bangs tossing from side to side as he followed them. "You know, those two remind me of your parents," Kateryna said with a smile, wiping a cheerful tear from her eye.

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Hey, I can see it," Alfred commented, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just like how Papa gropes Dad and Dad acts like he doesn't like it, but he does. He just won't admit it."

"Al, not everyone is like Dad."

"Well, everyone can't be like you either." Leaning in close, the American whispered in his ear, "You like what I do, but you're just too shy to say it."

A large blush erupted on Matthew's face as he elbowed him in the stomach. "Sh-Shut up. Someone might hear you."

"Come on, no one heard me. The only one here is Kat, and even if she did, I bet she already knows we do stuff. Isn't that right, Kat?"

"What?" she asked, clearly confused. "…Oh, when you say 'do stuff', you don't mean-"

A horn honked and Kateryna looked away, her brother pulling up in his black Volga. Matthew sighed in relief, never so glad to see the Russian in his life. "Oh, there's Ivan. I have to go. I'll see you guys next week!"

The brothers waved goodbye to her and Al smiled to himself, deciding to take one last look at the school before they left for break. His hand went limp as he saw Ramón leaning against the wall, cigarette in mouth. Watching him kick his skateboard back and forth across the sidewalk, Alfred felt the flickering flame deep in his chest, but it was faint, as it were dying out with time. It was so strange to see his ex-boyfriend without anger and shame filling him up to the brim. He couldn't believe it himself, but he just didn't feel that intense amount of burning animosity anymore.

In fact, the more he thought about it, he felt pity for the guy. With his parents divorced and his dad rarely home, Ramón was probably going to spend the break alone, unless he went out to hook up. It must've been years since he'd had a real Thanksgiving dinner…and a family to share it with.

For a few seconds, the American considered inviting him over the next day, but he quickly shot that down. That…that was just a bad idea. Nothing good could possibly come from it. Taking a deep breath, Al continued to watch him, thinking of how lonely he would be if his family were never around.

Catching his gaze, Matthew lightly brushed his hand against his brother's. "Hey, you okay?"

Alfred switched his eyes over to his boyfriend, beaming brightly at him. Then again, with his brother as his lover and their parents always by their side, he doubted he'd ever have to feel that. "Yeah. Ready to go home?"

Nodding, the Canadian pulled his helmet and leather jacket out of his otherwise thin backpack and Al followed suit. Coats zipped up and helmets lodged in place, the two threw on their backpacks on and walked down the sidewalk. The motorcycle gleamed in the sunlight and Alfred climbed on first, beckoning his lover with a bend of his finger. Mattie complied, straddling the seat as he wrapped his arms around Al's waist, their lower bodies locking like puzzle pieces. Twisting his wrists as the engine roared to life, Alfred sped them out of the parking space, toward home.

As the wind whipped around them, Matthew let his arms ride up to Alfred's chest, feeling for his heartbeat. His violet eyes grew brighter and he smiled serenely despite the adrenaline pumping through him, his head against his brother's back as the combined pounding of their hearts filled him with love. For them, like the soothing rhythm of identical beats, 'brother' and 'lover' were one and the same.

Nothing could ever feel so right.

**. . .**

_ "I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three." - William Blake_

**. . .**

**(A/N: I thought that'd be a nice quote to end with since I've come to love it so much. If you don't remember, Mattie quoted it in the sixteenth chapter. Anyway, I want to thank you guys for reading, reviewing, and supporting this story over the past six months. I can't believe half a year has gone by since I started this. I'm really emotional right now and I'm sure it's gonna hit me even harder later, but yeah, Brother Complex has come to its end. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride as much as I have and I promise to keep writing. In the meantime, I'm taking a little break from multi-chapter fics and I'm gonna bust out some oneshots while I work on some original work I've been putting off. See you guys soon!)**


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